La Fille Miserable
by swAhILi2011
Summary: When Kiera wanders into France in 1829, she never expects to stay, much less help form and bring about a revolution. Spurned by events from her past and her new friends, Kiera is forced into the society of france , and all the troubles that come with it.
1. Chapter 1: a sigh for help

A/N: Hello! This is Kira-chan! .

Anyway...

Before you say it, this may seem mary sue now, but this is just the beginning. Trust me, the same thing was said about one of my other stories. Ask Howleron.

Sadly, I do not own any of _Les Amis_. But I do own Kiera, and some of this storyline!

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Chapter One: A Sigh for Help

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She ducked through the heavy rain, drawing the raggedy black hat she wore more over her face. The wind whipped around the tatters she wore that may have once been a dress. Since her head was ducked against the rain, she wasn't watching where she was going. Within moments she walked right into something solid and fell back onto the pavement. She looked up, blinking the rain back from her eyes to see a young man standing in front of her, holding a few books in one arm and a package of what was seemingly meat in the other. A few stray black curls had fallen out from under his hat to frame his pale face. He immediately stretched out his hand to help her.

"My apologies, Mademoiselle! I-I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going..."

"It's fine..." she muttered, picking up her now sopping hat from the ground with a sigh. The student looked her up and down, his eyebrows raising slightly at the ratty condition of her garments. He cleared his throat and looked away politely.

"So, um...are you from around here?"

She shook her head mournfully, green eyes downcast.

"Is it that obvious?"

The young man smiled faintly, nodding.

"Your accent is decidedly foreign; anyone could notice. Where are you from?"

She didn't reply; instead, she just clutched her tattered shawl more closely around her thin shoulders. It was then that he noticed her hair, which was a golden yellow colour and hung down her back in tangled curls. As if she noticed him staring, she brushed her hair back off her face with another sigh. The young student decided to switch topics.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you've mentioned your name...."

She looked up again, their gazes connecting for barely a second before she looked away again.

"Kiera" she replied "Kiera Lynnia"

"Kiera..." he repeated, surprised at her strange name. Shaking his head to get rid of any impolite thoughts, he responded

"Mine is Marius Pontmercy. I am a law student at one of the nearby schools. What are you doing in Paris? Perhaps I can assist you?"

"Ah..." she whispered, then added so quietly he could barely hear her "I-I don't....I'd rather....I-I'm fine..."

"Do you have any place to stay?" the kindhearted young man asked "For surely you do not plan to stay out here and sleep in the streets!"

She bowed her head and muttered something unintelligible that he took as a no.

"Well...I'd have you stay at my place, but..." He trailed off, staring into space. She quickly shook her head, replying

"It's fine...I don't have any money to pay you for your troubles anyway..."

He was about to respond when he heard a familiar voice calling his name over the pouring rain...

.......

Courfeyrac had been on his way to the Cafe Musain when he saw his friend standing in the rain next to a young woman dressed in rags. Quite amused, the boisterous young man could not even think of missing this chance to tease his friend.

"Hoy, Marius!"

The young man turned, as well as the girl next to him. She looked like she really just wanted to get out of there, and saw him as means of escape. She bowed to him and was about to turn and run when he, with a grin, addressed her.

"_Bon soir_, Mademoiselle, and who might you be? Could it be, Marius Pontmercy has finally found himself a wo-"

" Hello, Courfeyrac." Marius interrupted, knowing full well where his friend was going. He turned to the girl next to him. "Kiera, this my friend and local idiot, Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac, this is Kiera. She just came to Paris, and has no place to stay nor any money to procure one."

" _Sacre bleu_! But of course, I insist she stay with me! To think; a young girl, left alone on the streets! Poppycock! And besides" he added " surely you cannot house her?"

Marius shook his head mournfully, rain dripping from his hair as he did so. Kiera stared from boy to boy, the dropped her head in defeat.

"I guess I could...but I don't want to cause Monsieur any trouble!"

Courfeyrac winced

"Just Courfeyrac, please. And besides, it'll be no trouble at all; my dear parents are paying for everything." he grinned "_Adieu_, Marius!"

Said boy tipped his hat to them both and turned towards home. Courfeyrac turned to Kiera, still smiling.

"Let's get you home, then. I suppose it is necessary to get you some new clothing...ah, but that'll have to wait until tomorrow; the shops are closed...well, you can just borrow some of mine...."

"But, Monsieur Courfeyrac-"

He winced again.

"Just Courfeyrac, if you don't mind. I hate all that formality; makes me feel like some rich young priss..."

She chuckled, then covered her mouth and mumbled an apology, as if she'd done something wrong. Courfeyrac sighed dramatically.

"You are one strange, sad little woman: I have my work cut out for me it seems..."

"What?"

He just grinned in reply.

"Oh nothing..."

........

Here you are, then!"

The yellow-haired girl took the proffered clothing, still having not said more than 10 words to her new companion. Thankfully, Courfeyrac wasn't one to ask many questions or pry into other people's business. She sighed as he left the room, giving her some privacy to change.

"Of all the stupid things to happen...letting myself accept charity..." She muttered, tearing off the sopping rags and, shivering as the cold air hit her wet skin, pulled on the older boys clothes. It was merely a shirt and pants, but to her, it was like all her dignity being swallowed in foul swoop. running a pale hand through her hair, she called out.

"I'm decent!"

The young student smirked as he walked back into the room. He too had changed from his wet clothes. He also had a towel, which he was using to dry off his face and hair. After he was finished, he tossed it over to her. With a nod of thanks, she commenced drying herself off. Courfeyrac, not liking the uncomfortable silence, decided to take the initiative.

"So...what're you doing here in Paris?"

She froze, opening her mouth, yet no sound came out. After a short silence, she hesitantly replied.

"I...I don't really know....I had to leave home after...after...after something happened....and...yeah, I guess I just wandered, and eventually I made it here."

She looked back up at Courfeyrac and noticed him staring at her, a strange expression on his face.

"What?"

"What happened...why did you leave there?"

"What happened to make it any of your business?" she retorted, turning away from him to face the window.

"Sorry" He quickly replied "I did not mean to pry...."

"I know..." she mumbled "I just...I don't want to talk about it...it's...hard..."

He nodded, putting a hand sympathetically on her shoulder, then drawing it back when he thought about what he'd just done. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Kiera dried her hair absently.

"Thank you."

Courfeyrac, who had turned to leave again, swung back around. He paused for a moment, then broke out into one of his characteristic smiles.

"You're welcome..."

.......

"Courfeyrac! By god, what's been keeping you, lad? You're usually the first one here!"

The smiling student took off his wet coat and hat, replying to Feuilly, who had spoken.

"I had to attend to a damsel in distress, _mon ami_."

" Ah, and who's the un-lucky lady?" Grantaire called out, his words slurring ungracefully, laughing. Courfeyrac sat down and, putting his feet up on the table, answered

" A foreigner; I found her talking to Pontmercy on the street and, her having no place to go nor any money, I invited her to stay at my place."

As he friends chuckled and teased him, Courfeyrac secretly decided to not say anything more. If she wanted to share, she could do it by herself, when she wanted to. It wasn't his place to go spilling he secrets to everyone else.

.......

"Kiera?"

She jumped at the sound of her name, turning to see that it was only Courfeyrac standing in the doorway. She hadn't moved much except to fold herself onto the window seat. She hadn't even seen him come in: she hadn't been looking at the street. Rather, she had merely been daydreaming, awaiting for his return so that she knew what to do.

"_Bon soir_, Monsieur."

He winced, then sighed.

"I've already told you: I'm just plain Courfeyrac. No other titles, please."

"Alright, mon-Courfeyrac."

He smiled, ruffling her now fully dry hair.

"Thank you. Now, let's get you a place to sleep, shall we?"

He pulled off one of the two mattresses on his bed and laid it on the floor along with a few blankets and a pillow he had gotten from the landlady. Meanwhile, Kiera got down from the windowsill and slowly walked over.

"Where were you?"

"Hm? Oh, just a meeting with some of my friends. I can take you with me tomorrow if you like. "

She nodded absently, picking at a loose thread on her shirt. Or, rather, his shirt....she sighed again. Feeling uncomfortable in the silence, she asked

"Is that man we met earlier...Marius....is he one of those friends?"

"In a way..." Courfeyrac replied "But he doesn't come to our meetings anymore."

"Oh...why couldn't I stay with him? Not that I don't like staying with you" she added quickly "I'm just curious."

It was the student's turn to sigh, lying back on his bed , staring at the ceiling.

"Because he's quite a stubborn ass who won't accept any help when he needs it. He's not very...well off, I guess, to put it politely."

"Oh, I see..." Kiera flopped back onto her own mattress. Just as the young man was about to blow out the candle, she asked

"Do you know of anywhere I could a job fast?"

He sat and stared at her, replying

"I...don't know. I can help you look around, though" he added, smiling at her reassuringly. She smiled back at him for a few seconds before turning back to staring at the ceiling.

"Thank you. I just don't feel like completely imposing upon you-"

"For the last time, Kiera: you're not imposing. Remember-I'm the one who asked you to stay here."

"I know, I know..."she grumbled. "Goodnight, Courfeyrac."

"Goodnight."


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions and a question

A/N: sigh...gotta love reviewers.....

so, another installment....enjoy....

Oh, and since I don't know many of the actual first names of most characters, the ones I use are the ones I've been told by other people. Correct me please if you know the actual ones.

Once again, I do not own _Les Amis_ (no matter hard I try X3)....

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Chapter 2: Introductions and a question

..................

The next morning, Kiera was awoken rudely by a knocking at the door. Courfeyrac, who was already awake and getting ready to leave, swung open the door to reveal a young man. He had brown hair that was tied back in a neat ponytail and spectacles perched upon his nose. He first greeted Courfeyrac, then his gaze fell on her, still sitting on her mattress.

"I presume, Mademoiselle, that you are the girl he mentioned last night." He smiled, holding out his hand. "I am Etienne Combeferre, one of this rascals many friends."

With small smile, she replied "Kiera" which caused Combeferre to laugh.

"Right to the point, I see; I like you already. Now" he turned to Courfeyrac "Are you going to bring her with you later? There is another meeting at noon, and I am sure the other's are wanting to meet her."

Both men turned to her, as if expecting her somehow to know the answer. She shrugged

"I guess...if Courfeyrac is willing to let me tag along, that is..."

Chuckling, the young student responded" Of course you may; after we get you some clothing, that is. We can go to the cafe when we're done."

He noticed Combeferre laughing at Kiera's obvious mumbling of disapproval. Sighing dramatically, he replied

"You are most definitely not putting back on those awful rags you had on before. Besides, it's dreadfully cold outside; you'll freeze!"

Kiera rolled her eyes ceiling-ward, but drooped her shoulders in defeat, responding

"I suppose I don't have any choice in the matter..."

"Definitely not" was the cocky reply.

..........

It was a subdued Kiera that walked between the two men an hour later. She now had on a green chiffon dress and a matching hat, both dreadfully uncomfortable, courtesy of Courfeyrac. Neither was very expensive, but it still annoyed her to depend on him such. The only thing that was originally hers was her old woolen shawl, which wasn't too badly worn or ripped, so they had given her hat one small comfort. She had spent the entire time in the store cursing both of her new friend's names (which Courfeyrac always responded to with some witty remark), while pondering ways to get revenge.

"We're here"

She was torn from her thoughts when Combeferre spoke. She looked up to see an older cafe, in which Courfeyrac stood in the doorway. She followed him into a dimly lit hallway, all the way through many other rooms to one she assumed was the one furthest back.

A small group of young men sat at the tables, each smaller group talking about something different. However, all conversation stopped when they walked in. Kiera felt her cheeks burn as they all turned to stare at her. She jumped when she felt a touch on her arm, then relaxed slightly when she saw it was just Courfeyrac. The young man smiled reassuringly, then cleared his throat and said

"Everyone, this is Kiera Lynnia. Kiera, these are my friends, _Les Amis d'ABC._"

She cocked her head. but asked no questions as he led her over to one corner and sat her in an empty chair. For a few minutes she sat uncomfortably, until finally one of the men turned to her with a smile.

"_Bonjour_, Mademoiselle; I am Lesgles de Meaux."

"_L'aigle_? Eagle?" She repeated, confused, and the bald man laughed.

"Same thing; but you can call me Bossuet, for simplicity's sake."

"And you can call me just Kiera." She responded, shaking his proffered hand.

After him, she was introduced to Feuilly, Joly, Bahorel, and Grantaire. The latter had not been able to introduce himself, having been hopelessly drunk at the time. And there was one last one who had yet to introduce himself; a regal looking blond with shockingly blue eyes, and a very leader-like air about him. She assumed, then, that that was what he was. After an hour or so, she decided to take the initiative.

"Bonjour, Monsieur..."

"Enjolras" he replied shortly, then adding "you aren't from around here, are you?"

She shook her head slowly.

"I'm from a place many hundreds of miles away. I left to escape some problems at home."

Her noticed her obvious skimming of details, but he decided not to say anything. Even though he knew, from a leaders perspective, that having someone who wouldn't tell them much might be bad, she seemed....trustworthy. He only hoped he wasn't wrong...Granted, her living with Courfeyrac definitely wasn't about to shed any light on her. That man wouldn't do any sort of thing such as prying into someone's business. No, Nicolas Courfeyrac was the epitome of a nice man, even if he sometimes seemed a bit of a joker. Having grown up with the boy, he had seen both sides of his friend, and he knew that Courfeyrac could be serious if he wanted to be. Thankfully, he was distracted from thinking further when Jean Prouvaire, the only missing member, walked through the door. His gaze immediately lighted upon the young girl in the corner. He walked over and, bowing slightly, said

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle; I am Jean Prouvaire, though I prefer to be called Jehan."

"Kiera; I'm a foreigner, and Courfeyrac kindly took me in."

"Ah, yes, I do believe he mentioned something of the like last night. Well, It sure is nicer to meet you in person, Mademoiselle Kiera."

The other men were surprised to see Kiera, after being so quiet and shy with them, talk so openly to their poet friend. Then again, perhaps it was just because of who Jehan was; his personality was the type that made you open up. How many of them had indeed fallen prey to the same thing? Courfeyrac watched with a smile, happy to see her talking after seeming so quiet and sad since he had met her. AS she started talking to Prouvaire, Enjolras made a mental note to get information about the girl from him later, then turned back to his work.

.............

"Well, they certainly are nice men, aren't they? Especially M'ssieurs Feuilly and Jehan."

Courfeyrac nodded, still quite surprised at the change in his new friend after merely chatting with the _Amis_ for a few hours. She seemed to get along with all of them, and they had left with most everyone asking if she could come back the next day, to which Kiera agreed to with a smile. As they walked, he noticed her starting to glance around at the people passing by them.

"It's so very...different...." she muttered, and he nodded again, knowing exactly what she meant. He'd also noticed that every time she was asked where she came from, she delicately avoided answering the question and changed the subject. Himself not wanting to pry, he had a feeling that they may never learn the answer to that mystery. But he had been grateful to his friends, who had quickly realized how distressing the subject seemed, and let it drop. Well, except Grantaire, but the man was hopelessly inebriated shortly after their arrival.

"Courfeyrac?"

He started, turning to see that Kiera had stopped, her gaze unfocused as she stared into a shop window at her reflection. He paused as well, answering with a quick

"Yes?"

She didn't respond right away, then suddenly blinked back into focus, her gazing turning to the ground. Finally, in a barely audible whisper, she asked

"Have you ever...lost someone? Someone that was really close, that you really cared for, and all that?"

Courfeyrac froze, staring at her, mouth opening and closing as he seemed at a loss for words. After a few seconds silence, he replied

"I s'pose...."

"Ah..." she whispered softly, then resumed walking, eyes trained skyward.

the young student stayed back, quite utterly confused, then followed her back to his apartment.

..........

About two hours later, they both were lying back on their respective mattresses. Neither had spoken since; Kiera had picked up one of his many law books and had been absorbed in it since. Courfeyrac was completely ignoring his schoolwork and was, instead, reading some novel which she suspected may have been perverse in nature. Finally, getting restless in the silence, he asked.

"I'm sorry if it seems prying, but....why did you ask me that earlier?"

She sighed, putting down his book and staring at the ceiling.

"I...I was just wondering...'cause...'cause I guess that's why I left home....and I was just curious if you'd..." she trailed off, playing with her hair subconsciously.

"Oh...I'm so sorry...." Courfeyrac said sincerely, realizing the explanation for the hesitant and scared demeanor of the girl. He wondered who it was, to have such an impact on her. From what he'd seen tonight, she must have once been a more easygoing and laughing person, but it now took some coaxing to get out. Kiera spoke then, to try and avoid any other questions.

"So, Feuilly said he might know a man who can get me a job."

"Really?" Courfeyrac said with a warm smile "That's great!"

She smiled back and nodded.

"He an' Joly are going to take me there tomorrow. But....I don't know if he'll hire me, 'cause of my age an' all that...."

"How old are you?"

"Um...." she hesitated, lowering her eyes."Sixteen"

Courfeyrac sat up, exclaiming "Seriously? I...I would have guessed at least 20..."

She nodded mournfully

"Most people say that I look mature for my age. But even so, most jobs that pay anything don't hire people my age."

"Then don't tell them how old you are." he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, and Kiera turned to stare at him in awe. He quickly rephrased " That is, don't say anything if they don't ask. You did say you needed the money."

"I do..." she sighed "I feel terrible for imposing as it is...."

"You're not imposing." he argued vainly, then added "Besides, I...rather enjoy having you here. It's a lot less boring, now that I have someone to talk to."

"Just one of the perks...." she muttered sarcastically, which caused a wide grin to spread across his face.

"Are you under the impression that I do not enjoy your company?"

She shrugged, but before she turned away again he saw the smile on her face and knew that she wasn't.

......

The next morning they were both woken once again by a loud knock on the door. Courfeyrac tumbled out of bed, grumbling, and haphazardly tossed on his clothes. Kiera thought with a grin that he must not have been used to waking up in this manner. Still mumbling curses under his breath, he opened the door.

"Good Morning Courfeyrac, Kiera" Joly walked in, tipping his hat to the young girl on the mattress. She raised an eyebrow as two others followed him into the room.

"I thought only you an' Feuilly were coming...."

"Originally, but we happened to meet Jehan along the way, and he wanted to come along. Perhaps we could all go out for lunch afterwards..." Feuilly finished thoughtfully. Kiera shrugged

"As long as none of you tries to pay for me again." she warned "the clothes were enough"

"But surely you do not plan to starve yourself, Mademoiselle Kiera!" Jean Prouvaire said in his soft yet persuasive voice. The young woman sighed.

"No...I don't know...I just-gak! I just hate having people treat me like some charity case, going around and buying stuff for me! You guys have been too nice as it is!"

"No, we're not" said Courfeyrac with a dramatic sigh You're just too proud to admit you need help. You know..." he cocked his head, looking thoughtful "She reminds me of Enjolras..."

"What!?" she tried to protest "No, wait a min-"

But the others were already laughing and commenting in agreement.

"You're right!"

"No wonder they seem to get along...."

"Indeed...."

Kiera scoffed in exasperation, flinging up her arms.

"You guys are impossible!"

"We most certainly are!" Courfeyrac laughed "You do have to admit, _mon amie, _your pride can get in the way at times."

"But-!"

"No buts, Mademoiselle" Prouvaire interjected "Now, shouldn't we be leaving, Feuilly?"

"Yes we should; hurry up and get dressed, Kiera, for Monsieur LeJorge expects us at eleven."

Grumbling curses, Kiera grabbed her dress from the table and went behind the newly erected screen, put up by her request for modesty's sake. Meanwhile, the men talked amongst themselves.

"So how is it, living with a woman?"

"Hmmm, actually, I'm rather enjoying it. It's nice to have a woman here to talk to who is not a mistress." he grinned, and they heard a snort of disgust from behind the screen. Prouvaire laughed.

"It might do you some good, Courfeyrac. After all, it would be prudent to not have any mistresses here while Mademoiselle Kiera is staying here."

"He better not!" Kiera said sharply. Everyone was shocked when she didn't correct Prouviare's use of formality. Courfeyrac sighed dramatically, but the smile never left his face.

"My dear fellows, do you really think so low of me? I thought surely you must think better...."

"Oh be quiet, Monsieur drama king; we merely state the truth" Joly said with a wide grin.

"It is not!" Courfeyrac pouted indignantly. Feuilly opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the emergence of Kiera.

"Let's go" she said with a sigh, grabbing her hat and shawl from the bureau, Courfeyrac heaved a sigh of relief, and the others rolled their eyes as they placed their hats on their heads and followed her out the door.


	3. Chapter 3: Damned Revolution

A/N: another disappointing review round......but even so, I shall just plod on and I shall not give a rats arse whether you guys care or not....

Also, a response to Ivory(since you are anonymous and therefore I cannot reply normally.) and to the rest of you (mostly) nice people:

I do hope I know enough about the book, having read it from cover to cover 3 times, and certain parts of fit many more. I will admit, however, that they are ooc, and despite my efforts, I fear I cannot type an actual conversation too well in older-English (or, indeed, proper English as I am an American). I would also like to note that I have read many others that are much worse in their language usage, where the characters talk like present day teenagers. Just thought I'd add that(but I'm not being mean to anyone who this applies. I liked those stories anyways, and they are among the ones I have printed and read occasionally when I have no regular books to read.). But I do thank you very much for the compliment on my writing style, especially because I was really worried about it, since my English teacher does not agree with you. X3

And this is response to Dork:

Thank you, I will. And again, thanks for the compliment on my writing style.

And this comment goes for all reviewers: This is NOT exactly the same as the book/musical! If it were, it would be just retelling the story. This is poetic license, and I'm sorry if some of you are offended, but I'm just trying to tell a story here. And if I give them first names, it is for pure storytelling only, and I am well aware that most of them, you never learn their names.

Also, a note to whomever reminded me that I keep misspelling Enjolras' name:

Thank you! I keep forgetting to change that. I don't know how I got it in my head that it was spelled like that. O_O

anyways....

Alas, I still do not own these people (excepting Kiera), despite my best efforts.:(

............

Chapter Three: Dammed Revolution

.............

"That went well." Feuilly remarked with a smile. They were sitting outside one of Paris's many cafés, waiting for their lunch to be served. Kiera smiled back and replied

"I'm just happy I got the job....."

"We had no doubts that you would, Kiera...." the orphan replied, and the other three men nodded in agreement. They were still confused; since the job was as a translator, she had had to tell what languages she knew. There were six, and she seemed at least nearly fluent in all of them, so it was hard to tell which was her mother language. But her extensive knowledge made her almost automatically hired. The young men had tried to get her to tell them where she was from once again, but to no avail. So they had switched topics to what her plans were for the future.

"Are you going to continue living with Courfeyrac?"

"Only until I can get my own place" Kiera replied "As soon as I have enough money, I'm going to try and find my own place. Hopefully it won't take too long, though...."

"Oh, for the love of God!" Courfeyrac said , throwing up his arms in exaggerated exasperation. The others laughed, but they also voiced their own concerns.

"It's not a terrible thing to accept help, Kiera"

"Even Marius accepted our help once" Feuilly added to Joly's comment.

"Indeed, Mademoiselle, a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be living all by yourself." Prouvaire said eloquently, causing an annoyed growl from Kiera.

"Why is it everyone assumes that just because I am a woman that I cannot take care of myself? I have done so for a while now..."

"And we saw how well that worked out" Courfeyrac muttered dryly, and Kiera went on as if she didn't hear him

"...and indeed, M'ssieurs, I wager if I were to take any one of you in a fight, I would come out the winner. Do not judge a girl merely on age and appearance."

All four men lapsed into awkward silence at this proclamation. After a few minutes, their food had been delivered, and all was still silent. Finally, Feuilly said in a hushed tone.

"But you musn't think yourself indestructible, Kiera. That's how people end up like me; my parent's thought that they were too tough to be brought down. But they were wrong, Kiera; they were just humans, and so are you. You shouldn't worry people who probably really care about you, such as your family, your frien-"

"My family is dead."

None of the men looked too surprised at the cool statement. They had already suspected such, considering how she was alone, and she also acted the same way Feuilly acted when they had first met him, when he was just a poor gamin on the streets. They had helped him to get the job he currently had, even though, due to his kind heart, he refused help as well. And that much they had already accomplished for her, thanks to the young fan-maker himself. It was enough to make all of them smile.

"But surely, Kiera, you still have some friends back home." Joly commented, "And if we are indeed your only friends, do you intend to cause us such worry?"

"You've only known me for two days, Monsieur Joly" was the tart reply. An uncomfortable silence drew over them once more as they finished eating. After they paid (Prouvaire covering Kiera's, much to her displeasure), they headed back over to the Café Musain, where there was to be another meeting in an hour. No one was speaking until, quite annoyed and unused to such silence, Courfeyrac lamented

"I hate these damned silences; makes a body actually think..."

"And that would just be a crying shame, wouldn't it?" Joly teased "Wouldn't want to actually work that ol' brain, no sir."

"Life is much better when one does not take time to think things through, my dear little hypochondriac. It makes it much more...exciting..."

"My life is exciting enough as it is, thank you very much" the medical student replied.

"Indeed, what with Enjolras' daily talks of a revolution that could happen any second." Feuilly remarked "I almost wish it'd just happen soon..."

"Don't be stupid, Pierre" came Joly's snappish reply "You know we're not ready at all; it'd be suicide!"

"It's pretty much the same, no matter when we do it..." Jean Prouvaire said with a sigh. Kiera, who had remained to this point silent, muttered grimly

"It's the way all of these damned revolutions end up. And what does it change? Nothing. Not a damned thing." her voice cracked at the end. Prouvaire, quite sympathetic, placed an arm around the girl's thin shoulder, but she flinched out of his grasp.

"How do you know this, Kiera?" Feuilly asked politely, trying to relieve some of the growing tension. The girl waited a moment before replying.

"I've seen all this before; the same planning, the same reasons, the same resources...and you know what happened? They all got shot, that's what, and their revolution died with them!"

The men watched her as she stopped walking, shaking from repressed emotion. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, then said quietly and bit coldly

"Let's go so you can discuss your stupid revolution."

The students exchanged glances, then, without a word, resumed their walk towards the café, each with his or her own thoughts.

............

"_Bon soir, mes amis_....."

Enjolras greeted them as they walked into the café. If he noticed their somberness, he didn't say anything. He probably just assumed that they had a bad day or something of the like. After they muttered replies, he turned back to conversing with Combeferre. They weren't the only other _Amis _in the café: Lesgles sat in the corner poring over some paper; Grantaire, sitting drunk at his table next to him; Joly sitting working on some school paper. As the men went over to Lesgles to try and initiate a card game, Kiera found herself drifting towards the drunkard. However, at closer inspection, she realized that his glass was merely filled with water, and was just sleeping. He started when her chair scraped on the floor, rubbing his eyes blearily to see who it was.

"Oh, 's a lady....."

She nodded curtly, replying "Kiera. And I already know you are Grantaire: the other's introduced you last night, as the one who's supposedly never sober. Obviously that's not true" she added mischieviously, and he smiled wanly.

"Not really...they're right in a way, since I am most of the time when they're here...."

"Might I inquire as to the occasion?"

The dark-haired man shrugged listlessly.

"Don't feel much like it.....plus, my family's comin' over tonight, and I highly doubt my well-to-do parents would agree much with my drinking habits..."

"I'm amazed you started doing this, if you're family is so...'well-to-do." she remarked "I know for a fact that most parents would never have let their child drink more than a small glass of wine."

"I would never had tasted such freedom had I not left and come to Paris." He said ruefully "Most people don't care what you do in this city."

"So I've noticed, in my short time in the streets. Nothing here is sacred." she added "People attack whomever or whatever they can see."

"My parents didn't want me to come" Grantaire snorted "They were so over-protective....then again, I suppose I should be grateful to still have both parents...I bet people like Feuilly wish they had someone to be protective of them."

She didn't reply, but in her mind she agreed heartily. She had always wondered what it would be like if she still lived in the old house with her parents, and it had been them rather than herself who took care of her, fed he , loved her....

She was then gratefully distracted by the arrival of Bahorel, who had some papers in his hands which he gave to Enjolras before going over and sitting with the others. Enjolras skimmed through them briefly before setting them down on the table with a sigh.

"More bad news?" Combeferre inquired as Enjolras shut his eyes wearily, rubbing his temples. The blond student nodded.

"More groups splitting apart...we'll never get any blasted thing done if we can't find something that will bring these people together. We need a more set starting time..."

"We will know, my friend, when the time is right. For now, we must plan, and wait patiently."

"Ah yes; we wouldn't want to make the deaths, that will surely come, come because of your bad planning."

All the men turned to the corner where Grantaire was sitting, only to find that the skeptic had fallen back asleep. In fact, it seemed as if the one who had spoken was.....Kiera. Clearing his throat, utterly annoyed yet astonished at her outburst, Enjolras replied calmly

"And what, may I ask, do you mean by that?"

She turned to stare him straight in the eyes, and for once Enjolras himself found himself wanting to turn away.

"Do not tell me, M'ssieurs, that you are all blissfully unaware of what will happen if you go through with this. For assuredly in planning thus far you have looked at other revolutions of the past. Surely you've seen the ongoing trend. As for me" she added smoothly "I have seen enough of these damned things to know that they will not end well."

Most of the students had grown silent, uncomfortable at pointing out the one thing that they usually avoided talking or thinking about. After all, no one really wants to actually die, even if it's to save those in need. Kiera stood up, fists clenched, to continue, but Enjolras beat her to speech

"We are all well aware, Mademoiselle, of what might perhaps be the outcome of our actions, yet here we still stand, and we will fight regardless."

Kiera sat back down, looking slightly deflated and perfectly miserable.

"Fine: you may see me attend your funerals on the after, Monsieur."

Enjolras was about to snap a reply, then faltered when he noticed the single tear running down one of Kiera's cheeks. Before anyone could comment, however, she swiped it away angrily, muttering.

"I'm sorry; you may continue with your meeting."

With one last glance at the girl, Enjolras turned to begin the meeting. Courfeyrac, however, seemed decidedly distracted, staring off into space. In truth, he could not take his mind off the unsettling image of a tear, falling from a hardened emerald eye...

.........

After the meeting, Courfeyrac (now in a much better mood) decided to stick around afterwards and chat with some of the others. After sitting listening to their banter for a few minutes, Kiera got up and headed out the door. When she got out, though originally intending to take a brief walk, found herself sitting on the curb, sinking her head into her hands mournfully. The meeting had done nothing but make he remember similar meetings, back when...no, it wouldn't do to dwell on that now. It would only remind her about how her new friends were jumping on that same bloody bandwagon as the others had before. She sighed

"I'm sorry if I seemed snappish earlier."

She looked up to see Enjolras, standing a little ways away, blue eyes thoughtful. She laughed hollowly. "Why apologize to me, Monsieur? It was I, after all, who interrupted your meeting...I should be apologizing to you..."

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. Besides, you have not been in Paris long: you have yet to learn what it is like."

She shrugged in response, burying her face in her shawl.

"If it's anything like the rest of the world...ah, but you never know. You guys might actually accomplish something with this revolution of yours. You just might..." she trailed off, mouthing to herself as if there was more that she couldn't voice. The blond leader froze as he stared at her face....the façade so much like his own, yet cracking to let the pain show from underneath. He felt an urge to help, but...well, if he knew how to help people with their feelings, he wouldn't be the statue he was. But it didn't hurt to try....

"I'm...sorry for whatever happened to you before...it's seems to be quite upsetting to you, but...these people need to be freed. Look at them" he said, gesturing across the street to a beggar sitting in a doorway, trying to get the slightest bit warmer. "If anything, we'll be dead, but our deaths will serve as an example to future generations, and others will rise up to take on the mantle."

"Let us hope so"

They both jumped at the sound of Feuilly's abnormally serious, quiet voice. He had just came out of the café, dressed in his worn hat and green scarf he liked to wear. He also had her new hat in his hand, which he held out to her.

"Nicolas will be out in a minute...._Bon soir_, Kiera. _Bon soir_, Enjolras."

Kiera stared at his back at he trotted away. She looked down at her hands, and scowled in disgust as she noticed them shaking. What was the use of hiding your emotions if your body was just going to do its best to betray you? Angrily, shut shoved them into her coat pockets. After a slightly awkward silence, she whispered.

"But will they, Enjolras? Will these people remember you when you fall, or will your death be just like theirs are....meaningless,...will that be all you will ever be?" she laughed bitterly "Another life gone?"


	4. Chapter 4: Deja vu and a home

A/N: I have nothing to say, except that this chapter is a bit shorter than the others.

I do not own them.

...............

Chapter 4: Déjà vu and a home

................

A few months passed, and Kiera had now saved just enough to get her own apartment(if she wasn't too picky, that is.) Feuilly offered to take her to look for one, and knowing he'd be the most knowledgable as to her situation, Kiera agreed. They searched from the better houses down, hoping for the something semi-suitable for a young woman to live. That was Courfeyrac's only request, but Feuilly knew that that mgiht be hard to find. Having lived in the poorer part of Paris, and owning his own house in the district, he knew that the prices were going to be too high in any of the good he hadn't mentioned htat to his friend, knwoing that Courfeyrac wouldn't let Kiera leave otherwise, and she deserved the freedom. He was jerked from his thoguhts at a tugging on his sleeve. He turned to see Kiera pointing to an only slighty rundown building that had a notice that said "Rooms for rent-cheap". He nodded at her questioning look, and they started across the street. Kiera turned to look down the street, making sure there were no coaches coming, when she felt the familiar thump of hitting somebody. She fell back onto the pavement, being thankfully cushioned by her dress, but her hat flew off and landed at the feet of the man she had run into. The young man quickly picked it up, holding out his hand to help her up. As she thanked him and looked up, she noticed that he seemed....familiar....

"Marius!" Feuilly exclaimed, "What a pleasant surprise!"

Ah yes, Marius....a second look confirmed that it was indeed the man she had met before...AS she brushed herself off, she remarked jokingly

"We really must stop meeting in this fashion...."

Marius laughed, handing her the hat when she hadfinished.

"Indeed. Good afternoon, Feuilly" he added, turning to the orphan behind her, "what brings you both down here?"

"For one, I only live a few streets away" Feuilly replied, "And for another, Kiera is looking for a place to live, but she has a quite limited budget-"

"And I no longer wish to intrude upon Courfeyrac, especially now that I am making my own income."

"I can attest to that....I am to assume you have a job, then?"

Kiera nodded, gesturing to the fan-maker

"Monsieur Feuilly referred me to someone, to which I am quite grateful," she added, "for now I can get myself a place of my own."

"You don't necassarily have to move out, Kiera. In fact," Feuilly grinned, "Courfeyrac will be a mite sad when you leave."

Marius raised an eyebrow in curiosity

"Indeed?"

Kiera rolled her eyes, muttering unintelligably under her breath. Feuilly laughed.

"I believe he has become quite attached to Kiera over the few months they have been in each other's company."

Marius laughed, patting the young girl on the shoulder as she blushed fiercely.

"Has he really? Oh, how amusing....well, let us not sit out here; come on inside, I might have some tea or something...."

"Inside...?" Feuilly watched his friend gesture towards the apartment building they had just been walking to. He blinked in surprise, but refrained from comment. Kiera, however, remarked.

"You live here? How much is it to rent?"

Both men turned to stare at her, aghast. Marius was the first to recover, clearing his throat and replying

"Now surely, Kiera, you might be able to perhaps afford someplace better....?"

"Not really, monsieur: I only earn a mere two francs a day, and that is not allowing for food and any other necessaties. Now, how much is it?"

"Twenty francs a month....but really, Kiera, I-"

"_Merci_, M'ssieur. Now, shall we head on inside?"

The two men exchanged weary glances then followed her inside the building.

.......

"Pontmercy! What a pleasant surprise, my lad!"

The young student nodded to Courfeyrac as they were ushered inside. Kiera was now much happier, having successfully found her own place to live. Theat was the reason they had come back; she had to grab her few belongings from his place. Well, and to thank the man that and done so much for her.

"I suppose I am right in assuming you have found a reasonable place?" Courfeyrac asked, his voice not belying his sadness. He hadn't felt this bad about someone's leaving in a long time....even if she was indeed only moving across the city. But, as always, he tried to stay in good spirits. It was just the way he was expected to be, so he smiled, motioning to the others to sit as the girl gathered her belongings.

"Will you still join us at the meetings?" Feuilly inquired, noticing his friend's distress. He may have been one of the quietest members of their posse, that did not mean he didn't know people well. In fact, he was quite good at reading people; anyone who had spent time on the streets learned how. It was the only way to tell what poeple's real intentions were, what they really meant. Kiera, he noticed, actually looked really cheerful for the first time since they'd met. She shrugged in response to his question, her gaze immediately flickering to Courfeyrac. He looked up expectantly.

"I...I suppose...I mean, as much as I can, what with work. I....I will try to, let's put it that way" she concluded with a smile "But work must be my priority."

"Remember, you can always ask us for help if you're ever in need" Courfeyrac said, trying to smile like he usually did, but no one was fooled. She didn't look anyone in the eye as she responded.

"We'll see...."

..........

It was two weeks before Kiera attended another meeting. So the second she walked through the door, she was immediatley tackle-hugged by Courfeyrac.

"Where on earth have you been? I was begining to think that you would never return!"

Kiera pushed him off, muttering as she straightened out her dress.

"I told you before, I could only make it here if I wasn't busy. I've been at work more often than not."

"You shouldn't have to work that hard, considering your wages. Surely we can just find you a better paying job for the time you put into it?" Courfeyrac said anxiously, turning to see Feuilly shaking his head.

"That's not the way it works: it tooks me a few years to work up independently to where I am now. In reality, Kiera is already much better off than half the city." he finished, his eyes cast down. Kiera nodded her agreement, sneezing and fiddling with her shawl. Enjolras, who had been listening in, cleared his throat to bring everyone to attention. "This, citizens, is the very reason we sit here today and every day. There is a great inequality in our society, and we must put a stop to it. When people who amy havehidden abilities, hidden talents," all gazes fell upon a blushing fanmaker, "and may yet be a valuable addition to society. That is why-" he was cut off by a loud sneeze. Kiera held up a hand apologetically, and he continued "That is why-" another sneeze, "That is why we must-" Sneeze "Must try our hardest to-" Another sneeze. Enjolras turned on Kiera.

"For God's sake, woman, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I-" She sneezed again. "I think I have a cold. In fact-" She coughed. "Sorry, gents, but I think I'll head on home now. I have to finish some work before I get some rest. _Bon soir_."

She bowed slightly, thenheaded out the door. All of the men (minus the snoring Grantaire) wathed her go, some with slight concern on their faces. Courfeyrac stood up as if to follow, but Enjolras said "Sit down, Courfeyrac; she would not want you to follow."

"I-okay...." the student sat back down, and added, trying to be hit usual witty self "As the great Apollo commands."

Everyone laughed, but it was almost as strained as the joke itself. Clearing his throat once again, Enjolras did not aruge, but continued on with the meeting.

............

Courfeyrac stood outside the Gorbeau tenement, his face screwed up in disgust. How cruel the world was, to force nice people like Kiera and Marius to live in such conditions. Sighing, he checked the address Feuilly had given him once again. Yes, this was still it. With one last sigh, he headed towards the door and walked inside. He checked the doors as he walked down the hallway, until at last he came to number seven. Putting the paper in his pocket after one last glance, he knocked. He heard a sneeze and a cough from inside, then a voice calling

"It's unlocked!"

He pushed on the door, noticing that it seemed to big for the frame, as it stuck a little. He shook his head in disgust as he looked about the little room, but he lightened when he saw the girl sitting up in the bed. The happiness was only temporary, however, when he saw how sickly she looked.

"Kiera....you look bloody awful" he said with a wry chuckle. She tried to laugh, but it only ended up as a cough.

"I feel as such...but, alas, I cannot sleep quite yet, as my work is not done for tomorrow." she gestured towards her lap, where there was a few books and papers, as well as an inkwell and pen. Courfeyrac shook his head in disbelief.

"Surely this Monsier LeJorge would not mind you being late if you explained it to him. You must rest."

She shook he rhead mournfully.

"He's had-" cough "he's had bad luck with workers in the past. He accepts no excuses or-" another cough, "or absences."

"Stuck-up bastard should realize that everybody gets sick sometimes. Maybe we really should find you a better job...."

"It's not that easy, Courfeyrac" she said, sneezing into her sleeve, "I was lucky enough that Feuilly knew about this one."

"But-"

"It's fine. Now, you should be heading on home: it's getting close to midnight."

Courfeyrac checked his pocketwatch and, sure enough, he saw that was actually 12:34. He got up from his kneeling position reluctantly, then begged "Please, at least get some rest!"

"I will try" she sighed, "Goodnight, Courfeyrac"

He hesitated, then replied as he went through the door

"Goodnight, Kiera."

............


	5. Chapter 5: An eviction causes etc

A/N: Hello! I'm hoping to move this story along a bit faster now, since it's been going a bit slowly....

I do not claim to own these characters except my own.

…......

Chapter 5: An Eviction Causes Some Distress

…................

"_Bon matin_, Courfeyrac! Time to get up."

The young student blinked open his eyes to see Jean Prouvaire leaning over him. It was January; two months had passed since Kiera had last been seen by anyone. It was assumed that she was working, since the only other time he had gone to her apartment to see her, the landlady said she was gone most of every day. This was the cause of many a night spent pondering her whereabouts, her wellbeing, and _somehow_ falling asleep during meetings. His friends usually left him to sleep, sometimes leaving him there until the next morning. This time, however, it was definitely still nighttime (despite Prouvaire's jest).

"'m sorry for falling asleep on everyone yet again." he mumbled ruefully, but Prouvaire waved it off.

"We are all fully aware of how distressing Mademoiselle Kiera's absence is to you. And do not try and persuade us otherwise" he added as Courfeyrac protested, "You have been decidedly not yourself lately; do not think we wouldn't see it."

"I suppose I haven't, have I?" Courfeyrac grunted in exasperation, "Where is she? Surely she is not working so much that she could not come at least once!"

"Perhaps it is a good thing; it might be she has merely found a much better job that requires more time." Prouvaire shrugged "Who knows; whatever she chooses to do is her own business."

"I suppose...well, I should get home...._Bon soir_, Jehan."

"_Bon soir, _Courfeyrac; sleep well!"

Courfeyrac nodded, grabbing his hat and coat from the rack andmaking his way outside. He shivered as he adjusted to the cold, then proceeded down the avenue towards his apartment. He hadn't gone even a block from the café when he found himself taking a completely different street, towards the poorer end of town. He didn't even realize where he had headed until he was nearly in front of a building; the Gorbeau Tenement. He paused in front of the door hesitantly. Part of him wanted to go in, but the reason in him said that maybe she just wanted to be left alone. They hadn't been that good of friends, really...they'd only known each other for a few months before she moved out. He sat for awhile, absorbed in his conflicting thoughts, until...

"Courfeyrac? Courfeyrac!"

He blinked, surprised to see a hand waving in front of his face. He shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts.

"_Bon soir_, Pontmercy...." He said, recognizing his friend immediately. The dark haired boy had a look of slight concern on his face.

"Are you all right? You have been out here for at least a half of an hour now, staring at the front of the building."

"Kiera..." Courfeyrac muttered, then turned back to look at the building, adding, "Is she home, do you know?"

Marius faltered, dropping his gaze to the ground and fiddling with the worn edges of his overcoat. When he spoke, it was in a quiet, somewhat shamed voice.

"She has been....evicted. The landlady forced her out a few weeks ago, since she couldn't pay the rent after she lost her job."

"She lost her job?" Courfeyrac's gray eyes widened in horror, "Whatever for? What happened?"

Marius sighed wearily, then grabbed his friend gently by the shoulders.

"Come on inside; you look a bit chilled...."

"What happened?" Courfeyrac repeated, shrugging out of Marius' grip. "Why did she lose her job?"

"I...she got sick." Marius admitted "Quite sick. She spent all the money she had saved up all these months on a doctor. After a few weeks, she could no longer pay her rent, so the landlady was...forced, to kick her out. I tried to help he rout some, but, see, I've been a bit of a bad spot myself, and-"

"So she kicked a sick girl out onto the street?" Courfeyrac's voice had gotten higher pitched in his mixture of anxiety and anger. "She left her outside, in the middle of winter, penniless, to the mercy of the streets..."

"Courfeyrac..." Marius said warily, but there was no stopping his frenzied friend.

"What kind of person leaves a sick person out to the mercy of the streets? I-oh, god..." He moaned "She could be dead! Oh, Marius!" he he groaned, nearly collapsing to the street, but Marius held him up.

"I know...I would have stopped her, but fear I was not at home at the time. Perhaps she did it on purpose, knowing I might intervene. I don't know where she is right now, Courfeyrac; I'm sorry."

"We must find her! Who might know where we can-Feuilly! I must find Feuilly!"

Marius watched watched helplessly as Courfeyrac darted away. Eventually, shaking his head with a sigh, he headed back inside to catch what little sleep he could.

…..........

Feuilly set aside the fan he had been working on with a contented sigh. He loved the happy feeling he got when he was finally finished, knowing that there would soon be another three francs in his pocket. He was just clearing off his desk and getting ready to go out when there came a frantic knocking at his door. Somewhat cautiously, he called out

"Hello? Who is it?"

"Feuilly? It's Courfeyrac!"

He flung open the door to reveal a rather bedraggled looking Courfeyrac. He swiftly ushered him inside, and after locking the door, sat him on a worn couch. He grabbed a mug from his small stove and filled it with coffee, handing it to his friend.

"Whatever's the matter, Nicolas, to have you upset such as this?" He asked kindly, and, after taking a huge gulp of his drink, Courfeyrac replied feverishly.

"It's Kiera! Sh-she was evicted from her apartment a few weeks ago, lost her job, and is most probably wandering the streets somewhere o-or lying somewhere dead, and I have n-no idea where to find her! You have to help me!" he cried, not noticing as the lukewarm coffee spilled onto his pants. Feuilly, though obviously distressed, kept his cool as he gently pried the mug from his friend's shaking hands.

"Calm down, Nicolas; it'll be alright, we'll find her....but first, _mon ami, _I suggest you get some rest. If yo-"

"But what if she needs us right this very minute? What if she's still ill, and this one night could be everything? What if-"

"As I was saying" Feuilly interrupted, sighing. "If you lie down and rest for now, I will go out and poke around for a while. I can get some of the others to help of I really need to. But you, my friend, look quite exhausted and upset. Some sleep will be good for you."

"But-"

"Please do not make me tie you down to the bed, Nicolas. Good night." With that, Feuilly grabbed his coat, hat, and scarf from the bureau and headed out the door.

…..................

Kiera trudged down the cobbled street, clutching her shawl as tight as possible around herself. Her dress was now in rags, and she had lost her shoes the very first night. She also had a persistent cough, but she knew she had no money to pay for a doctor. She knew that it would've been better to just go to her friends, but she didn't want them to see her reduced once again to such a state. She did not want their pity nor their charity. She had been getting along by herself, until the illness struck....what would they think of her now? Homeless, jobless, penniless...if only she could-

"Well well, what 'ave we here?"

She looked up to see an older man, who had a decidedly crazed look about him. He was most definitely drunk; he'd most likely been thrown out of the bar right across the street. She shivered as a sudden gust of cold wind swept through the air.

"You cold, _ma petite dame_? P'raps you'd be wanting to come with me?" his words were slurring, and she took a step back.

"N-no thank you" she managed to squeak out, looking around frantically for a means of escape. For even if the man was indeed drunk, he looked strong; much stronger than she was at the moment. She back away even more as he grinned drunkenly.

"Was not a question, _ma petite dame_." he laughed malevolently. She tried frantically to find a passerby, anyone, who would help her. But everyone passed right on by, without even glancing her direction. There was one last option....she bolted, stumbling along the cobbles, her bare feet slapping hard on the frozen ground. Gasping, she cursed under her breath as she heard his heavy breath. She was then aware that he was not only much stronger, but faster than she. As he caught up, he managed to reach out and grasp her arm, yanking it so she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. She gasped in pain as she collided, feeling her wrist crushed underneath body, and screamed as it cracked. The man didn't care, if he indeed noticed; he grabbed by the same arm, pulling her up so they were almost eye to eye.

"Bitch." He spat, "I said you was comin' with me. End o' story."

She struggled from his grip, and once again attempted a run. But the drunk had gotten smarter; this time, he grabbed her by the hair. Crying out in pain, Kiera was forced to stop. Pulling her back once more, the man smacked her across the face.

"That's for leaving again."

He then dragged her across the street, towards a dark alley.

She tried to struggle, but she was weary, and her head was swimming. . She just wanted to get away...but now that seemed impossible.

She vaguely felt herself being flung into a wall in the alleyway, as the man, jeering, bent in towards her. She could smell the foul smell of alcohol on his breath as he got closer and closer....

"Let go of the young lady." An unfamiliar voice intoned; an older man, graying, yet obviously very strong, had her attacker by the shoulder. The drunk man snorted.

"'scuse me?"

"Let go. Now." The new man seemed to be a no-nonsense sort o f person, Kiera noticed. Her vision suddenly blurred, and she clutched the wall with her un-injured hand for support. The old man saw this and decided that there was no time for formalities. He grabbed the drunk roughly by the collar and dragged him out onto the curb. Using the man's own tie, he tied the drunk man to the lamppost, and, jotting a few words on a piece of paper, left it sticking out of the drunk's pocket. Satisfied, he turned just in time to see Kiera swoon, and rushed to catch her before she hit the pavement.

….......

"Any luck?"

Feuilly looked up to see Joly walking over, and shook his head. He had run into Joly and Bossuet on their way home from the café, and the two of them had agreed to help him search. They hadn't any luck thus far, and the young fan-maker was beginning to lose hope after checking the normal poor hideaways. Seeing his expression, Joly came over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Feuilly: we'll find her."

"I hope so, but...I can't help but think that something must have happened. I mean, you've surely seen the scum that wander the streets these days."

Joly nodded grimly.

"Such are the conditions the king has forced us into. But who knows; perhaps someone has taken her home out of kindness. Why, she might walk in tomorrow, and say "My my, you ninnies, you seem tired; what were you doing all night?"

Feuilly laughed, but his heart still felt heavy with fear and the anticipation of the worst.

…...........

"Marius!"

"Cosette...." the young dreamer breathed, quietly replacing the bar behind him as the young woman walked over. He followed her over to their bench, and they started chatting idly as was usual. He noticed that Cosette seemed a bit out of sorts, so he asked why that was.

"Well, Papa went out tonight, as he usually does, but he came back not half an hour later, with a girl. Poor thing, she was unconscious when he brought her in, and so terribly thin and pale! Oh, but when she woke up, Marius, she had such beautifully green eyes! She was quite pretty, after we'd cleaned her up a bit. And I do not believe I have ever seen such beautifully yellow hair. And-my dearest, whatever's the matter? Why, you have gone pale-are you ill?"

"No, that's not it..." he muttered distractedly, hi mind reeling. That girl she'd described...could it be? But it almost seemed too good to be true...he'd have to....

"My love, is it at all possible that I can see this poor girl?" he asked kindly, and Cosette stared at him in confusion.

"Well, I suppose you might...that is, if Papa has gone to bed, but hwy? Do you know who she is?"

"I might..." he replied simply,, and she shrugged.

"All right, then; if you would follow me..."

….......

Courfeyrac wandered the streets in a daze, barely registering his surroundings. He trusted Feuilly, of course, but that did not ease his own fears, so he headed off on his own. Of course, he had no idea where to look, where to go, but it wouldn't be that hard....would it?

…..........

A/N: gak! Lame ending!


	6. Chapter 6:In which no one stays put

A/N: hello, it's me....and chapter 6!

hmmm....let's see, do I need to say anything...nope, I have nothing to say.

Except that I still do not own anyone but Kiera.

…......................................

Chapter 6: In which no one stays put, and Courfeyrac perhaps regains some of his sanity.

…..........................

"Courfeyrac is gone!"

_Les Amis_ all looked up to see a rather haggard looking Feuilly in the doorway. Bossuet, who had previously been asleep on his breakfast, wiped the eggs off his face as he replied.

"Did you seriously expect him to stay and sleep?He's probably out wandering the street looking for Kiera. Perhaps he can have better luck than we have so far." he added with a weary sigh, wiping his still slightly egged face with a napkin. Joly, whose eyelids were nearly drooping as he spoke, remarked.

"Anyone would have better luck than you, Bos-"

"Has anyone seen Courfeyrac?"

They all turned to see Marius, looking almost equally as tired and upset as the rest of them, standing in the doorway. Combeferre shook his head mournfully.

"Why, do you need him for something?"

"I found Kiera!" the student exclaimed, and most everyone in the room perked up.

"You did?" Prouvaire jumped up, swiftly crossing the room and grabbing the young man by the shoulders. "My God, Pontmercy, where?"

Marius, looking more than a bit startled, replied.

"She's at Cosette's house; you remember, the girl I've been going to see every night" he added, blushing. "She She started explaining about a girl her father had found last night on his way home. I recognized her, and my suspicions were confirmed when Cosette let me in her house to see her."

"How is she?" Feuilly asked, his expression turning to worry when Marius bowed his head. "Is she-"

"She's fine" Marius assured him, then added as a second thought "Well, in a relative sense of the word. From what I heard, she was...attacked, last night on the streets. Monsieur Fauchelevant, Cosette's father, saved her, and then brought her home. But they are bringing her to a doctor, perhaps as we speak, so where is that Courfeyrac?"

"Out looking for Kiera." Prouvaire responded quietly, letting go of his friend. "He has been away since late last night."

"And, knowing him, he's probably wandering aimlessly on the streets. Either that or asleep" Combeferre sighed. "I suppose we should find him before he gets himself into any trouble."

The others followed him as he made his way out the door. Feuilly was the only one aside from Marius left in the now silent room.

"Do you know which hospital they're taking her to?" the fan maker asked quietly, stifling a yawn as he did so. Marius smiled at seeing it, then nodded.

"I can take you there now, if you wish. I believe it may take them a bit to find Nicolas; he can be very hard to find, if he does not want to be found."

"Indeed...and _oui, _I would like to see her. But we should leave them the address" he added with a weary smile. "They may find him while we are gone."

After scribbling the address and a short message on a spare piece of paper, Marius left, with Feuilly, stifling another yawn, following shortly after.

…....

"Right this ways, Messieurs. Thank Goodness you have come, for even though Monsieur is paying for her care, he had no idea of any family she might have. Ah, here we are..."

A doctor had shown the two young men inside the hospital, and had led them to the door they currently stood in front of.

"This is one of our special care rooms; I deemed it appropriate, regarding the Mademoiselle's condition."

"Sh-she will he alright, though, Monsieur?" Feuilly asked tentatively, his normal calm shattered by the previous night's events, and a lack of sleep. The doctor smiled warmly as he unlocked the door.

"Indeed, she shall. Right this way, Messieurs."

"_Monsieur le __Docteur_, is that y-"

The girl on the bed froze as the two younger men entered the room. She bent her head in shame as Feuilly darted across the room, grabbing her in a swift hug.

"You had us all worried! Why didn't you tell any of us what had happened, Kiera? I-" he noticed her wince, and held her away from him, looking her over. "Oh my dear g....you're covered in bruises! And your hand..."

"I know, Feuilly...I'm fine, honest to God." she coughed into her unhurt arm. "And I am really sorry for all the trouble I have caused. I...I really wanted to tell you guys, but-"

"-your insufferable pride got in the way." Feuilly finished with a sigh. "I know how you feel, Kiera, but...sometimes, you just have to let others help you. This time, however," he added with a wry smile "I do not believe that, pride or not, you can get out of help. Nicolas, for one, is never going to let you out of his sight after all this."

"That's for sure" Marius said quietly. "He was very distraught when he found out, Kiera."

"Where is he now?" she asked with another cough. Feuilly stared at her, drooping eyes widening in concern.

"He's out in the city somewhere, looking for you. He left late last night. But I wouldn't fret overmuch, " he said reassuringly as Kiera was about to interject, "Etienne went out to get him with the others. And I'm positive he will find him soon; no one knows more about Nicolas than him, with perhaps the exception of Enjolras. They all grew up together," he added, seeing her confused expression. Yawning, he leaned his head onto the mattress, muttering sleepily, "Now if you don't mind, I think I shall...."

And he was out like a light, sleeping peacefully. Kiera jumped in shock, but Marius just chuckled.

"Leave him...he hasn't gotten any any sleep since the night before last. Most of us have taken a nap at least once since we started searching, but he has been running around all morning, trying to find you."

"I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble for everyone, especially him..." a small smile spread across her face. "We should probably move him to a chair or something...it'll be even a bit more comfortable."

Marius nodded and gently picked Feuilly up, setting him on one of the comfortable chairs in the corner. He also grabbed one of the many blankets from a closet and drapes it over the young man's shoulders. Kiera watched, every now and then coughing into her sleeve, causing Marius to turn and look at her in concern.

"Are you sure you will be alright?"

She nodded, taking a few deep breaths to regain control of her lungs.

"The doctor says it may take awhile, but he does believe I will make a full recovery..."

"That's good." A wide yawn split his face. "Well, If you don't mind, Kiera, I am going to go back home and take a nap before I head to work. Anyway, you need to get rest yourself if you're going to get better. Farewell, Kiera." She nodded, her eyes practically dropping shut as she realized just how tired she was. She leaned back onto the pillows and, within seconds, was fast asleep.

….......

Combeferre and Enjolras sent everyone back home, telling them to get some sleep, and that they could find Courfeyrac by themselves. As Feuilly had assumed, the both knew exactly where to find their friend. So, after promising a meeting later to update everyone, they headed off towards the city.

"I am quite positive he'll be there; he is very predictable." Combeferre chuckled, "I remember when we were younger, and every time something upset him, he would run off, but he'd always end up in the exact same place, fast asleep."

"Especially after what happened to Gautier." Enjolras said, keeping his face set as he always did. "He ended up hiding almost every night."

"Ah, yes...." Combeferre sighed, staring up at the cloudless sky, "He hasn't been quite the same since. I suppose I would be the same way, if I had lost a brother."

"As I am an only child, I have no idea how that might feel." Enjolras remarked with a sigh. "Though I have always thought it to be something like losing with of you."

"Same here." Combeferre smiled. "I cannot imagine losing Courfeyrac or you. In fact, I am rather proud of him for handling it as well as he has. You would never guess anything by looking at him."

"He is good at hiding what he really feels." Enjolras muttered as they turned into the Luxembourg Gardens. "That is why most people think him only a joker because that is how he deals with life. He drowns everything in jokes and smiles."

"That is why I think Kiera is doing something right, bringing out the more confused and out of control side of him. She is quite-ah ha, just as I thought!" Combeferre pushed aside a bush to see Courfeyrac lying asleep. Both students felt grins creeping onto their faces at the sight of the full grown man, curled up behind a bush like a young child. Combeferre laughed softly.

"I know we should wake him, but....he needs the sleep."

"But not out here." Enjolras replied. "Let's take him to your place, since it's the closest."

Combeferre nodded and, gently picking up his friend as not to wake him up, headed off towards his apartment.

…...............

When Courfeyrac opened his eyes, he immediately realized that he was not at home. He heard a chuckle as his eyes opened fully to see Combeferre leaning back in a chair, spectacles perched as always upon his nose.

"_Bon Matin_, Nicolas-_Bon Apres-midi_, to be precise."

"What am I doing here? Where is Kiera?"

"She is at the doctors. And as for you, you should remember that I know the location of your comfort spot."

"Oh....wait," he suddenly registered Combeferre's first statement and leapt out of the bed, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. "You found her? You found Kiera?!"

"Yes, yes we did, Nicolas, so please go of me because, believe it or not, you are quite strong when upset."

"What? Oh, sight, sorry mate...."

Combeferre laughed, rubbing his shoulders.

"It's fine. Now, as soon as you have eaten, I will take take you to see her."

"_Mais oui, Cap__i__tan_!"Courfeyrac said vigorously, grabbing a loaf of bread and hunk of cheese from the table, heading out the door. Combeferre followed with a sigh, but he also felt a sense of relief, knowing this meant that Courfeyrac was back to his normal childish self.

…..........................

When Kiera finally blinked open her eyes, it was already dark. Someone had lit a candle, and it's flickering light cast upon Feuilly, still napping in the corner. But then...there was another presence. She turned to see Courfeyrac sitting in another chair to her left, a book in his lap. When he saw her look over, however, he dropped it and ran over.

"Kiera! Oh, you're awake!" He hugged her, and she winced, but hugged him back. "Thank heavens! I have been waiting here for six hours now! But the doctor told me you would be okay, so I tried to not worry. And isn't it funny, seeing Pierre asleep like this! He is so adorable....anyway! How are you feeling?"

She stared, aghast, as he blinked innocently.

"I'm, erm, fine, I guess....what time is it?"

"One in the morning. I have some bread and cheese here if you want something to eat."

Her stomach rumbled, as if speaking for her. Laughing, Courfeyrac handed them to her. She ate ravenously, keeping her head down in shame. When she was finished, she asked tentatively.

"Are you...mad at me?"

"Mad?" He paused, then laughed sadly. "Yes, I supposed I should be mad at you....oh, Kiera."He grabbed her suddenly into a crushing embrace. "I was so worried about you! I-I've heard terrible stories about the streets, Kiera , es-especially in winter. ..dear God, girl, we thought you dead! Just like...."

She sat, stunned at hearing the sadness in her friend's voice, and her hear ached at the pain she'd caused him.

"I-I'm sorry...." she said, then tears began pouring down her cheeks. "I'm so=so sorry...."

She buried her face in his shirt, sobbing. He held her gently and let her, quite startled by her display of emotion, especially to him. They both started a quarter of an hour later at the sound of someone yawning.

"Kiera, wha-oh, Nicolas! Good evening....what is the time?"

Kiera laughed, swiping a hand across her eyes. Courfeyrac stared at her a moment, then turned and replied.

"A bit after one, I believe."

"One...in the morning?!" The fan maker quite literally jumped from the chair, shedding the blankets and running a hand through his sandy hair. "I have been asleep all day! Oh, dear, now hat am I going to do? I haven't even turned anything in from the other night....oh, dear...."  
"Relax, Feuilly, " Courfeyrac said soothingly, "We can help you if there is a need to. WE would rather you get sleep than work if need be."

"But-"

"Do not even attempt to persuade him against it, Feuilly." Kiera said with a cough and a sigh. "He's quite adamant about helping others when they do not need or, indeed, want any."

"Are you implying something, my dear?" Courfeyrac quipped, and both orphans gave him looks of exasperation.

"All of you are like this...over-eager to help anyone you see." Kiera scoffed. "Why, I bet you will get yourself killed one day, Courfeyrac, when some murderer decides to trick you into helping him."

"That stings, my dear little bee." Courfeyrac lamented with a yawn. Kiera suddenly realized something.

"You two should be getting home; it must be, what, one-thirty by now? I mean, Feuilly, you have been here all day!"

"But I do not think we should leave you alone very long...." Feuilly said, concerned, but Kiera just brushed it off.

"'But' nothing. I will be quite alright by myself. I mean, I'm in a hospital, for God's sake; what's the worst that could happen?"

"You had to say that....." Courfeyrac moaned, and the other two laughed.

"I'll be fine...." Kiera said forcibly. "End of discussion. Now you two go on home."

Sighing resignedly, they grabbed their hats and coats and prepared to leave. But Courfeyrac asking if she was sure, and she kept insisting that yes, she was. After what had to be the fifteenth time of asking and response, he sighed.

"But I'm worried!"

"Don't be." she replied smoothly. "I have already told you that I'll be fine, and that you both need to go home, as I have already disrupted your lives long enough. Go."

He sighed in defeat, heading towards the door.

"Alright....but I'm coming back as soon as class is done tomorrow!"

"Me too." Feuilly piped up. "I'll come as soon as I can."

"Whatever floats your proverbial boat" she yawned. "_Bon soir_."

"_Bon soir._"  
….................


	7. Chapter 7:Courfeyrac the prison guard

A/N: 'ello, _mes vérifiers_! (hint-hint)

So, I finally got up to chapter ten in the written version.....now just to get it all typed......

Also, I have used some abbreviations for titles. Just FYI.

I lay no claim upon these lovely men and women, except Kiera.

…................

Chapter 7: Courfeyrac the prison guard and some Letters.

….........................

"Am I _allowed_ to leave?"

Courfeyrac looked up to see Kiera standing above him. It was now march, and Kiera had only been out of the hospital for less than a month after a stay of a bit more than a month. Courfeyrac had brought her back to his apartment, and forbade her to leave unless she told him first. She was quite annoyed, but he deemed it only necessary in keeping her safe.

"Is there someplace you wish to go?"

"Nowhere in particular." She replied calmly. "Just walking about for a bit."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"Really? So you would not mind if I joined you?"

She fidgeted uncomfortably, replying hesitantly.

"I'd...rather be alone, if you please."

"Really...." He muttered, peering into her green eyes. She turned away, sighing.

"Please, Courfeyrac?" She pleaded. "I am going mad, being stuck in here all day! It's not like I will be in any more danger than anyone else walking on the streets."

"But I do not have to worry about anyone else one the streets, now do I?" he replied. "I have to worry about you. And you, _ma __chérie_, are quite load on the brain."

"Who are you, my mother?" she snorted derisively. "You have no power over me."

"Then why haven't you left yet?" came the cool reply.

"Maybe I will." She snapped, grabbing her new hat and shawl from the table and stalked out the door. He stood up and followed her, calling out.

"You are not going anywhere all alone!"

"Go away, Courfeyrac!"

But he continued following her as she wove her way across town. She fumed, trying to lose him amongst the crowds, but he was just too good at following people. She cursed her bright golden hair, since it caused her to stick out, and tugged her hat over it as much as possible. All she wanted was to lose him, and have a few bloody moments of peace! But him and his damned overly-cautious nature would not allow it. As it was, he had already gotten close enough to call out to her.

"Please wait for me! Stop being so unreasonable!"

"Stop following me, dammit! You are not my mother, so please, stop acting like one!"

"How would you know; you've never had one!"

Kiera froze, and Courfeyrac wished he could have taken it back at the look on her face as she turned on the spot.

"I-I'm sorry, I did not mean t-"

He winced as she smacked him hard across the face.

"Go to Hell!" She spat, before turning and stalking off in the other direction. He didn't dare follow. He was also relieved to see that there was no one else to witness the embarrassing scene, as the street was mercifully empty.

…............

Later that afternoon, Kiera was sitting on a bench in the Luxembourg Gardens. It was a slightly warm day for March, which was good, because she hadn't buttoned her coat or put on her shawl. Her anger had abated some, but she still had no desire to see Courfeyrac at the moment. She sighed, about to resign herself to another night on the streets, when she noticed someone familiar walking down the path.

"Mlle. Kiera!" Jean Prouvaire exclaimed, walking over to the bench and sitting down. "How delightful to see you! Did Courfeyrac finally let his prisoner escape?"

"We had a....falling out, per say," she replied somewhat coolly. "So I left."

"Do you require lodging for the night? I have an extra mattress you may borrow."

"I don't know....would it be much trouble?" She asked. "I would hate to be rude."

"It's fine, ma chérie; I have an of space, and mes parents pay for everything. No need to worry" he added, seeing the questioning look on her face, "We have plenty of money. It is only just that we assist you, as you have none."

"I.....merci beaucoup, M. Jehan!"

"It is nothing at all, Mademoiselle. Why don't we just pop in for a short meeting at the café, then I shall bring you back to my apartment. That way we can let Courfeyrac know where you are, so that he does not worry...."

"He will anyway...." She said with a faint smile as he helped her up. He smiled back as they both turned and headed towards the café.

…..........

"I didn't mean to say it!"

Courfeyrac moaned, burying his head into his folded arms. Combeferre sighed, rubbing his temples wearily.

"But it clearly offended her, Courfeyrac. This is what happens when you let your emotions and stress control what comes out of your mouth."

"I know...." Courfeyrac sighed, then groaned. "I'm such an idiot...."

"Don't worry, we won't correct you." Joly said with a smile. "Stop your fretting; she'll be back soon, ready to go home. She doesn't hold grudges."

"I certainly hope not...." Courfeyrac sighed again. "I just hope that she has found a place to sl-"

"_Bonjour, mes __amis_!"

Prouvaire walked in with, Courfeyrac saw with relief, Kiera. She looked at him briefly before turning away pointedly. He watched her as she followed the poet over to the opposite side of the room, sitting at a table with Enjolras and Feuilly. She struck up a conversation with the latter, plainly ignoring his very presence.

"She hates me..." He muttered, sinking his head back in his arms. Bossuet frowned sympathetically.

"She will forgive you, Courfeyrac; she is just a bit....sore, at the moment."

"Maybe you should try to apologize." Joly added. "This might be your only chance for a while."

Courfeyrac shook his head.

"I'll just make things even worse....I think I will let her cool off for a while...."

…...........

"I understand that he's sorry, but.....that hurt. A lot."

Kiera frowned, trying to surreptitiously glance at her friend from time to time. She wondered if the others were going to force him to come over and talk to her. She almost wished they would, since she hated seeing that wounded expression on his face....

"I'm sure he knows what he said was wrong, Kiera." Feuilly said kindly. "But he was merely agitated. He has been such for quite a while now; I was wondering when he would snap."

"He has?" she looked up worriedly. "Whatever for?"

"He's worried about you, mostly." Enjolras said, not looking at either of them as he spoke. "He is a bit hypersensitive. He's afraid of losing another to these streets."

"Another?" Feuilly and Kiera asked in unison. Enjolras nodded, still staring off into space thoughtfully.

"His older brother was killed by a street gang here in Paris. Courfeyrac was only fifteen. It was the reason he was so encouraged to join our cause."

"So that's why...." Kiera breathed, then she turned to look at Courfeyrac. "But he always looks so happy...."

"It is how he copes with problems." Enjolras replied. "That is just how Courfeyrac is, always has been."

"Oh...I feel terrible now...." she murmured. "I thought he was simply a worry-wort."

"In a way, he is; however, in this city, his fear is logical. He is scared that it will happen all over again."

"It almost did." Feuilly remarked. "Kiera was attacked on the street, remember? It would be logical that he would worry, then, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose..." Kiera whispered, gazing once again at her friend, thoughts swirling.

…........

"_Bon soir_, Gavroche; could you please deliver this letter for me?"

The young gamin looked up to see one of the students from the café looking down at him. Couf.....Couy....something like that.

"Courfeyrac, hurry it up!"

Ah, Courfeyrac, that was the one! He crossed his thin arms defiantly and glared up at the older boy.

"What's in it for me? Citizen, I see no reason why I should be delivering your letter."

The student smiled, pulling out a small leather pouch and taking out a few coins.

"Here; buy yourself a good meal or something when you get done. But please hurry and deliver it to this address, before it gets much later!"

The gamin considered the coins in Courfeyrac's hand before grabbing one as well as the letter.

"This'll be enough. And thus am I off!"

"Merci beaucoup!" Courfeyrac called, but the gamin was already gone.

….............

"Do you find it suitable, Mlle. Kiera?"

Jean Prouvaire inquired as they stood inside his large apartment. Kiera was blinking owlishly, trying to regain the use of speech.

"I....yes, yes, quite! I mean...damn...."

He laughed musically, taking off his coat and hanging it in the closet.

"I have always believed it a bit too much, by my dear parents would never allow their only son to live in any less of a place."

"It's very nice." she agreed. "If I were a parent, I would most definitely allow my child to live in a place such as this."

"Enjolras' place is even nicer, if you can believe it." Prouvaire laughed again. "But he is the last person I can ever imagine living with another person."

"He is a good man, though." Kiera said quietly as he began preparing a bed for her. "He seems to me to be very good friends with Combeferre and Courfeyrac,"

"They are closer than most brothers I have known." He agreed. "And each one seems to be merely one small portion of a whole being."

"How poetic." she said with a laugh. "Quite lovely, actually; are you going to be a professional poet?"

"Heavens, no! It would never be enough to pay the bills. I am afraid I shall have to take up other work, and continue my writings, when I can, on the side."

"It's sad," Kiera muttered as she wandered over to the windowsill, "that people here in Paris can't even do the things the enjoy because of the way society is."

"Such is life, _ma __chérie_," he sighed, "well, let us prepare for bed; perhaps tomorrow we sh-"

Prouvaire was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. He went over and opened it to reveal an energetic gamin.

"Gavroche!" He said with a smile. "What brings you here at such a late hour?"

"I have brought a letter, Monsieur Poet, addressed to a young lady. A student from the café asked me to deliver it."

Kiera walked over, eying the gamin curiously.

"Which student sent it?"

"Co....Cour...." he struggled, then brightened. "Courfeyrac, that's the one! _Oui_, Mademoiselle, he asked me to deliver to you this letter, if you are indeed Mademoiselle Kiera, Under the care of Jehan Prouvaire, at number 15 Rue de St. Michel."

Kiera felt a grin spread across her face, the changed it to a frown.

"_Merci __beaucoup_, Gavroche." she said, grabbing the letter from his hands. Yes, it was most definitely Courfeyrac's handwriting; how often had she seen it since she had been stuck in his house, with only his writings and books to read? As she took the letter and sat on her mattress, she noticed out of the corner of her eye Prouvaire giving Gavroche a few sous. The gamin bowed grandly and ran off into the night. Prouvaire turned to her, smiling, and announced.

"I am going to get prepared for bed." he winked, and she realized that he was purposefully leaving her alone with the letter. She smiled back and opened it. The letter read thus:

"Dear Kiera,

Please accept my most sincere apologies for my outburst earlier. I was not thinking quite clearly, and I do fear that I have made you very upset. I understand that what I said to you is wrong, and I regret it terribly. I also am aware that it was perhaps wrong of me to keep you from leaving the apartment, especially because I believe you were not quite happy here. I hope that even if you do not wish to return to live with me that we may remain friends.

Yours in forgiveness,

Nicolas Jean Courfeyrac."

Kiera sighed, letting the letter drop from her hand as she lay back onto the mattress. So, he wanted to be forgiven....well, hadn't she already done so, in her heart? She knew she couldn't blame him for what he had sad, no matter how much it had hurt her. Especially after what she had just found out....

"Mlle. Kiera?"

She looked over at the poet, who had been standing in the corner without her noticing him even returning to the room. He raised a curious eyebrow, gesturing towards the letter she had let fall.

"What did Nicolas say to you?"

She laughed, staring at the ceiling.

"Exactly what I had thought he might; he is begging for my forgiveness. Which, of course, I have already given him. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Absolutely, Mlle., but may I ask why you require such things?" Prouvaire inquired, walking over to his writing desk and pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, as well as a hard book for her to lean upon.

"I am going to write him back, and maybe ask Gavroche or another gamin to deliver it for me in the morning. I need to assure him that I am not mad at him, lest he worry anymore."

"Splendid idea, Mlle." he smiled reassuringly, adding. "I'll leave the candle burning for a bit longer, so as you can have light to write by."  
"_Merci_, M. Prouvaire."

…........

"M. de Courfeyrac?"

Said student glared at the concierge, replying.

"How many times must I tell you, my dear woman: simply call me 'Courfeyrac'."

The old woman glared back, answering.

"Monsieur de Courfeyrac, there is a young gamin in the parlour, with a letter for Monsieur. Will you receive him?"

"What?" He said, adding excitedly. "Oh, indeed, I will! Show him in at once!"

Gavroche was led in, grinning widely, and he had a slightly rumpled letter in his hands, the address written in loopy handwriting that could only be Kiera's. He searched his pockets and pulled out a couple of sous, handing them to the boy as he grabbed the letter from his hands. The gamin laughed.

"You're just 'bout as excited as the Mam'selle was yester-evening, when I gave her yours."

Courfeyrac ignored the gamin's jibes, as he shooed both gamin and concierge out of his room. When he was sure he was alone, he tore open the letter, and read:

"Courfeyrac,

You are indeed forgiven, and were shortly after you let that certain comment slip. However, I was a bit mad, I suppose, later, thus my ignorance. I also now have a greater understanding of your worry, and I know why you fear for me. However, though I am not entirely mad at you, I would still wish to remain with Monsieur Prouvaire for a few days. But I nevertheless am, and always shall remain, your friend.

As always,

Kiera Eloise Lynnia."

Courfeyrac stared at the paper, a smile forming on his face. She didn't hate him. Suddenly, a burst of laughter escaped from his lips. He was still laughing five minutes later when there came a knock at his door. He attempted to regain his composure as he opened the door to reveal Enjolras.

"Glad to see that you are feeling better, _mon ami_." his blond friend said with a glimpse of a smile. "You were quite upset last night."

"She responded to my letter. You were right." Courfeyrac said, laughing. "She doesn't hate me! She says she isn't mad, and she still is my friend."

"That's good." Enjolras said truthfully, adding. "I knew she would."

Courfeyrac cocked his head, confused, but refrained from comment. He did, however, ask.

"Why did you come over? Do you not have a class soon? I myself was getting ready to leave..."

"I was concerned for you." Enjolras replied. "I wanted to make sure you were going to handle this okay."

"Really? The stone-sold Apollo, coming over to my house to check up one me..." He laughed again, seeing Enjolras' glaring face. "I kid, I kid...No, I'm all right. Takes more than this to bring Nicolas Courfeyrac down."

"Indeed..." Enjolras sighed. "Well, I'm afraid I must be off, lest I be late for my first class."

"Oh, but of course! Indeed, I would feel just awful for making the great Enjolras tardy for a single class!" Courfeyrac grinned, grabbing his hat and book bag from his dresser, as Enjolras sighed. He then shook his head, but there was a trace of a smile on his face as he followed his friend out the door ans onto the street.


	8. Chapter 8:Trouble finds a few victims

A/N: And thus I continue, despite my lack of reviews.....

also, I have a couple of pics of Les mis and Kiera up on my DA (deviantart). Check 'em out, esp. if you wanna know what Kiera looks like. (my page is: .com/)

I do not own anybody except my own character, even though I do enjoy torturing them a bit from time-to-time. :).

….........

Chapter 8: Trouble finds a few victims.....

….............

Two weeks passed, and Kiera found herself once again out looking to get a job. This time, however, only Courfeyrac waited with her inside the shop. Most of the others were in class, except Feuilly. There had been a recent outbreak of illness in the city, and as the poor orphan was one of the only ones who lived close to the common people, he was the first to catch it. They had, however, been forced to hid his paints and supplies so that he would rest rather than work. She sighed, tapping her foot anxiously as they stood inside the shop, waiting for the foreman of the factory could check over her papers. She hoped she would get the job, even if it paid only two francs a day, same as the last one. But this was a factory job, rare in the large city, and a lot harder work. She was desperate, though, so she was just happy to have found it.

"Everything seems to be in order." the foreman said roughly, jerking her out of her reverie. "You may come back tomorrow; we provide one dress for work every two months. You get your wages on every Saturday afternoon. Any questions?"

"No, Monsieur" She said, smiling at her success. "_Merci __Beaucoup_."

The moment she got out the door, she breathed a huge sigh of relief, to which Courfeyrac chuckled.

"I love how you always appear to be so surprised when good things happen to you. Not everything in life is as difficult as you believe it, Kiera."

"But getting a job in this city is," She replied, "Especially finding one that all of you deem appropriate."

"I hardly believe that the one you have just acquired is quite appropriate." Courfeyrac remarked. "No woman such as yourself should be forced to do work such as that."

"This is reality," came her response, "not dream-land, where everything is just and perfect in society."

"But that is why we must fight, Kiera; we fight so that there will be justice, and people can do what is right. There are ways that we can change these things; we merely need to fight for it."

"Fight for change...." Kiera muttered. "But the costs for fighting, Courfeyrac; is all this fantasy worth it?"

"You are always so pessimistic, _mon __amie_." Courfeyrac said jokingly, then added seriously. "There is no change without cost; if we stayed where we were, worrying about what may happen to us, things would never change."

…............

The two of them parted ways shortly thereafter, Courfeyrac going back to his apartment, and Kiera back to Prouvaire's. She decided to take her time going back, however, as the poet had told her earlier that he wouldn't be back until that evening. So she began wandering, subconsciously heading back towards the poorer end of town. As she walked along the street, she noticed the sky begin to cloud over. She then turned around, not wanting to get caught in the rain. But as she turned, she felt someone grab her arm. As she turned to see who it was, she tried to scream, but another hand clamped itself over her mouth before a sound left her mouth. As she struggled to get out of the men's grasps, three more materialized out of a nearby alley. One, quite obviously the leader, stepped right in front of her, his face inches from her own.

"So, we meet again," the man leered, "but this time, mademoiselle, there will be no old man to save your skin."

Kiera's heart pounded, her green eyes widening in realization. The man guffawed.

"Yes, you recognize me now, don't you? 'Course, I mighta changed a bit, after being stuck in the jug for four months, all thanks to you."

Kiera shouted muffled protests, trying in vain to break free from the henchmen's grasps. THE man just ignored her, laughing cruelly at her feeble attempts.

"Oh, you won't be getting' away this time. I will have my dear revenge."

That drew more muffled curses from miffed prisoner, as Kiera tried to bite the hand over her mouth. All of the men laughed wickedly, and the leader began to draw something out of his pocket.....

…............

Feuilly walked along the streets slowly, shivering slightly and coughing loudly. Combeferre had ordered him to stay at home and get some rest, lest his illness get any worse, but the young fanmaker reasoned that surely he would be all right just running a few errands. Besides, how would Combeferre understand that it was impossible for him to just not work for a few days? He needed every franc he could get, especially if he ended in need of medicines; they were expensive! So that was what brought him out, against his friend's wishes, walking toward the main city. There was a faux calmness in the air, and a few minutes later, he heard the sounds of some scuffle. He walked over to see five men, standing around some victim. The girl was partly blocked from his view by one of the men, but he could see the leader pulling something out of his pocket that shone in the light. Without pausing to consider what he was doing, the young man walked over a fast as he could, and yelled as loud as he could.

"Stop! Let her go, you fiends!"

As the men turned to acknowledge him, Feuilly finally got a clear view of the young girl they had been harassing. He gasped, but Kiera didn't look up to see who it was. She was engrossed in her struggle to get free, but as he stepped closer, the man holding her drew a knife and held it to her throat, forcing her to look up.

"Halt, boy, if you want this wench to live to see tomorrow."

Feuilly stopped automatically, wide eyes staring at the knife being held at Kiera's throat. The leader rubbed his own knife on his shirt, smiling up at the young fan maker.

"Well, well, this young mademoiselle seems to have an endless supply of knights in shining armour. Pity it had to be a little shrimp like you."

"Let her go." Feuilly repeated, not daring to move lest it provoke the thugs. "Why is she so important to you?"

"This little whore got me stuck in the jug for four fucking months. I've been livin' on nothing for weeks, and now, I will get my well deserved revenge, and no brat such as yourself is gonna stop me!"

"She didn't do anything!" Feuilly protested, "It was the old man who called the police on you!"

But the leader merely laughed.

"You should know that life isn't fair, boy."

Feuilly scowled at the man's back as he turned and walked over to Kiera. He had reached the end of his already worn patience, and decided it was time to act. He leapt forward, blocking his young friend from the man.

"Don't you dare hurt her."

"Brave fool." The man spat, then grinned toothily. "We'll just have to kill two li'l birdies with one stone...."

…............

"That stubborn fool! I thought 'Ferre told him to stay home and rest...."

"He has to make a living, Courfeyrac, as he does not want to accept our help."

Courfeyrac sighed, kicking a rock moodily. He and Enjolras had gone to check on Feuilly before heading to a meeting at the café, only to find that he had left.

"He can take care of himself," Enjolras said, "he's done so for most to his life."

"So had Kiera, and look what happened to her." Courfeyrac snapped, and Enjolras sighed.

"She is a young woman; a much easier target than a twenty year old man."

"Yes, but-"

"Hush! Listen." Enjolras stopped. They both listened, and froze as they heard the unmistakable sound of Feuilly, yelling. The gave each other a quick glance before sprinting over in time to hear Kiera scream as the men rounded onto the young fan maker. Thankfully, he had some experience ion street fighting, but he wasn't as strong as he would have been any other day, since he was ill. Kiera was trying desperately to get free from the hands of her captor, but was hindered by a knife that was held at her throat. Courfeyrac choked as he saw the knife dig deeper into her throat, leaving her struggling for air.

"Bastard! Get your hands off her!"

"Stop this right this instant!" Enjolras added as they approached. All of the men except the leader froze, not sure what to think of the new additions. The leader scowled.

"Get them, you lazy asses! They're just two young rich pansies!"

But the other men shook their heads, staring in awe at the furious Courfeyrac. The leader scowled again, grabbing Kiera harshly, causing the other man's knife to cut her face, leaving a long cut. All three of her friends jumped at seeing it, but the leader held his knife once more against her throat.

"You best stay where you are, or I'll-"

"Bastelle! _Cognes_!" One of his men hissed, and a relieved smile spread across Feuilly's face. But it soon vanished as the man shoved the knife into Kiera's hands. She tried to give it back, but the man yelled, just as the cops came around the corner.

"You there! Drop your weapon at once!"

"It's not mine!" Kiera protested, but the inspector scoffed.

"Do not lie to me, you filthy slut. You and your friends are coming with me."

"What? No, honest, inspector, we were only saving her from these thugs!" Feuilly pleaded as two of the policemen pulled him up roughly.

"You four are under arrest for disturbing the peace." The inspector continued as if Feuilly hadn't spoken. "Take them away, gentlemen."

Amid loud protests, the four of them were lead towards a waiting fiacre.

…...

"I'm so terribly sorry that all of this happened!"

Kiera muttered as she paced the cell. All four of them had been put into a holding cell while their punishment was decided formally. Feuilly tried to smile reassuringly, but it lost affect when coupled with his bruising face from the street gang's blows.

"It's fine, Kiera. Besides, it's not as if this is my first time in here."

"ME neither." Courfeyrac admitted, and they all turned to stare at him in astonishment.

"Whatever for?" Enjolras asked, breaking the silence he had held since their capture. Courfeyrac shrugged dismissively.

"Same thing I'm in here for now, only it wasn't so bad last time. I had been upset, and had a mite too much wine, I believe." a faint smirk lit his face. "I ended up in a fight with some person...never even learned the fellow's name....anyway, I ended up in jail for a few months. That was before you had returned to Paris." he added at Enjolras' questioning look. "and before I met the both of you."

"I've been too...." Kiera remarked, not pausing in her listless pacing. "But I think it was mostly due to the fact that I got on the wrong side of one of the inspectors shortly after I arrived in Paris. Same one who got us earlier. Perhaps that is the reason he arrested us....." she mused, but Courfeyrac shook his head.

"This legal system's just plain skewed; they take the word of the richest, and expedite the poor who cannot defend themselves."

"Then why did they not take our side?" Kiera asked. "Yours and Enjolras' families are plenty rich!"

"Among other things, Kiera, the men that were attacking us looked scared." Feuilly gestured to their two friends. "Because of their arrival, it seemed as if we were the attackers, and they, the victims."

All four friends lapsed into silence, the only sound being the slight patter of Kiera's feet as she continued pacing. It wasn't until over an hour later that they heard voices float down the stony hallway.

"....and you are quite certain that said prisoners are indeed your friends?"

"Positive."

They all sighed in relief at the sound of Combeferre's voice. They tried to contain they joy as he came into view along with Jean Prouvaire and, surprisingly, Marius. The prison guard unlocked their cell door and led the men inside.

"This is them; are you quite certain that they are to be freed?"

"Quite" Combeferre replied shortly. "Thank you, officer."

Giving them one last glare, the officer led them out of the building. As soon as they were out of earshot, Combeferre let out a sigh of relief.

"You people have no luck whatsoever. I was worried when you never showed up to the meeting this afternoon, Enjolras." he added. "You've never missed one before. We had to ask around to figure out what had happened to the four of you."

"There were plenty of people who witnessed it." Marius added. "But only one would come help us to get you out."

"_Merci__beaucoup_, Combeferre, Marius." Kiera muttered. Combeferre nodded, then turned his attention to Feuilly who had been coughing into his sleeve.

"And you, Monsieur; I thought I told you to stay in your apartment and rest. No doubt you will end up sick longer for this."

"I'm sorry...." the fan maker muttered, but pointed out. "It would have been much worse if I hadn't shown up to help Kiera, though."

"That is true..." Kiera said quietly. "Those men would have killed me for sure if he or, indeed, the two of you had not arrived. To which I am eternally grateful." she paused and bowed slightly to Enjolras and Courfeyrac. The latter sighed, putting his hands behind his head as he continued walking.

"What are we going to do? Those men are hardly going to let Kiera get away again."

"And I absolutely refuse to be locked up in your apartment again, Courfeyrac, nor anyone else's." Kiera scowled, and Prouvaire chose this moment to finally speak.

"Though we should not keep you inside, perhaps there is another way....maybe have one of us escort you around the city for the next few weeks? They are less likely to attack you, Mademoiselle, if you are with one of us."

"Good idea, Jehan!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, but, as expected, Kiera protested.

"I will not be followed around by one of you all day! It would also almost certainly be a nuisance, since most of you are either working or in school. Or both." she added with a glance at Marius.

"But we cannot risk this happening a third time!" Marius said, then added with a faint smile. "If it did, I fear Courfeyrac might go mad from anxiety."

"Very funny, Marius." Courfeyrac muttered. "But seriously, we should be more careful. God knows, he last thing we need these days is trouble."

"More trouble, you mean." Combeferre smiling wanly, adjusting his spectacles. "Honestly, taking care of all of you is such a hassle at times."

"Oh, I beg your pardon." Enjolras mumbled, and all of the others laughed, slightly easing the tension as the seven friends made their way home.

…......................


	9. Chapter 9: Maybe the Drunk is Right

A/N: okay, obviously, nobody gets the real point of this story. Look past the obvious things, and try to understand that there is more to this story than Kiera and_les__amis_ "falling all over her." Because that's not what I believe this story to be about, and some others will agree with me. So pull your heads out of your Mary-sue set butts and please think before you flame.

(Note: I'm sorry about writing that and being all bitchy. I was deliriously sick at the time, just ask my friends. Hell, I couldn't even remember what number came after 6, for god's sake. However, I did keep it because there is some good points besides the obvious bitching.

Also, after re-reading some of my reviews, I would also like to add that the Reason Kiera damns all forms of revolution is because back in her country, they tried one and it didn't work, and there is more on that little blip later, when Kiera explains it to someone.

Anyway...

I don't own anyone but Kiera. But you all know that.

….............

Chapter 9: Maybe the Drunk is right

….......

"Ah, what a most delightful morning, do you not agree, my dear Eagle?"

"I wish you would stop calling me that..." Bossuet grumbled at Courfeyrac as they made their way back to the café after meeting with one of the other groups. They were joined a short time later by Kiera and Joly, who had been on the other side of the city, talking with a different group.

"So, how goes it in your area?" Joly inquired, to which Bossuet shrugged.

"Same as it's been every other time Most are still quite hesitant to join in the cause."

"Same here." Courfeyrac sighed. "Looks to be a mite harder than we expected it to be."

"Nothing in this life is easy," Kiera replied matter-of-factly, "you should know that."

"'tis the sad, sad truth," Joly replied, then sighed, "Well, we best get back to the café."

"Indeed, lest Apollo have a proverbial cow." Courfeyrac grinned devilishly at something beyond Kiera. She turned to see a glaring Enjolras, but there was a faint trace of a smile on his face.

"Will you please cease and desist this Apollo business. You are fully aware that it is not my real name."

"But it is much more....befitting of you, _mon ami_." Courfeyrac said amiably as they headed into the café. Enjolras sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You are impossible."

"Ah, but that is why you all love me!"

Enjolras ignored him, going over to his normal table near the center of the room, as the rest drifted toward the corers. Kiera found herself once again sitting beside Grantaire. He had yet to become fully inebriated, being in fact almost completely lucid.

"_Bon __après__-midi_, Grantaire." she said, and he nearly jumped at actually being spoken to. When he saw who it was, however, he merely chuckled, replying.

"Ah, 'tis _bon_ indeed. But tell me, mademoiselle, what contrives you to converse with me? Surely you have much better company than I."

"Perhaps." She said, smiling lightly. "But it is not as if I find your company unbearable, despite what I have been told otherwise." she added. He shrugged, taking a gulp out of his bottle.

"To each their own, I s'pose."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Grantaire broke it with a sigh.

"So, I assume you are going to join them in their fool's errand?"

Kiera shrugged dismissively, leaning back in her chair nonchalantly, but her face had become grim and set. He sighed again when he received no verbal response.

"I am, but not because I believe in their silly causes."

"Then what do you believe in?" Kiera asked quietly, and he laughed, taking another swig of his wine.

"I believe in Enjolras. And so, I will go. Fight? Who knows...."

"Ah...." was Kiera's only response, as she stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. Then, shaking her head, she looked back down at her lap.

"Perhaps you will end up the smartest of us all."

"That will be the day."

They both turned to see that a frowning Jean Prouvaire had seated himself on Kiera's other side.

"_Bonjour_, Monsieur Prouvaire. How did things go with you and Feuilly?"

"Not too well, I am afraid. More citizens deciding to leave; they fear only for themselves, and do not care for the overall effect we all may have for the future."

"Same here." she replied, leaning onto the table moodily. "Enjolras isn't too happy."

"Why should he be? He's one of the main players in this little game you are all playing." Grantaire chuckled, and Prouvaire shot him a rare glare.

"Do not speak of what you do not know, you sceptic! You know nothing of what we strive for!"

"Might I remind you, Monsieur le Poet, that I have sat in this room for five years, listening to everything you say." Grantaire snorted. "Just because I am not impressed by your cause does not make me an ignorant little twit. I was brought up on the same morals, the same high society and pompous foolishness that most of you were."

And it was true; Kiera could see it clearly by the more eloquent speech that Grantaire habitually slipped into. She would wager that, if he hadn't turned to the drink, that he would be just the same as any one of the others.

"Leave him alone, Monsieur Prouvaire." she said quietly, and, to her surprise, the poet actually obeyed. She changed the subject so as to avoid any more possible conflict.

"So, I was considering moving back in with Courfeyrac. He is moving into a slightly larger apartment, so I won't feel as bad for staying."

"That is wonderful; I am sure Courfeyrac will be most pleased to hear the news." Prouvaire grinned, to which Kiera blushed. Laughing, he leaned back casually in his chair.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, you amuse me!"

"Oh, hush...." she grumbled, eliciting another chuckle from the poet. But as Prouvaire was about ot reply, Enjolras stood up, and everyone quieted.

"Citizens, we are all well aware of the problems we now face en lieu of our cause. But I ask you now, do not be discouraged! Others will join with us, and the people will rise! But we will need many, citizens, to get us all the way to that point."

"So what are we to do, oh wise Apollo? Start recruiting the women and children?" Courfeyrac asked jokingly, to which Grantaire remarked.

"Seems as if you do that already, 'f you get my meaning."

Everyone turned to stare at Kiera, who had been absentmindedly scratching something into the tabletop with her fingernail. She looked up a few seconds later when she felt the weight of their gazes on her.

"What are you staring at me for?"

"Perhaps the wine cask is correct, for once." Enjolras mused, to which Kiera huffed indignantly.

"And, pray, what do you mean by that, Monsieur?"

"He does have a point, Kiera..." Courfeyrac stared at her thoughtfully. "I don't think you should fight, should it come to that." He added optimistically.

"What? No, I will!"

"But it goes against everything we believe in, Kiera." Joly replied, rubbing his nose with his cane as he often did when thinking. "One of our biggest beliefs is that no women or children will be harmed in the fight. It's only proper."

"What th-I cannot believe this." She exclaimed angrily. "I'm one of the most experienced people you have! I can help!"

"Absolutely not." Enjolras said coolly. "Planning, yes, but if and or when it comes to a fight, no. What sort of people would we come off as, letting a woman fight for us?"

"Back where I come from, they let the women fight just as equally as the men." She replied smoothly.

"And see where that got them." Enjolras replied heatedly, his face then paling slightly when he saw her pained expression. He suddenly felt like a certain idiot friend of his who had also frozen. Kiera recovered quickly, glaring at him as she said coldly.

"I know when I am not wanted. _A bientôt, _Courfeyrac, Monsieur Prouvaire."

And with that, she stormed out the door, leaving a couple of rather shame-faced friends in her wake.

…......

"See, _mon ami_; now you know how I felt."

"And that's supposed to be comforting?"

Enjolras sat at the corner table an hour later, along with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, the latter of whom was grinning in triumph at his friend's mistake, especially after what had happened to him. But he also had an understanding of what his friend meant.

"I know none of want to see her fight, Enjolras- me least of all." he smiled ruefully. "But it is her choice; we have no power over her, except to perhaps lock her in a closet of tie her to a bedpost so she cannot follow."

"Perhaps we should." Combeferre said with a sarcastic smile. "Since we cannot stop her by merely telling her to do so."

"But we mustn't let her come." Courfeyrac said with a sigh. "She has her whole life ahead of her; she is only seventeen, she is just a child!"

"And what does that make us, I wonder."Combeferre mused, adding. "How old must you be to be considered an adult? Think, friends; how old are we? Why, Enjolras and Marius are barely over twenty!"

"So was Gautier." Courfeyrac whispered. "The streets have no qualms, no separation of age nor power, nor wealth."

Combeferre and Enjolras exchanged glances, then stared down at the table in silence as Courfeyrac stood up and left, leaving them to their thoughts.

…......

"This is a nice place you have now."

Courfeyrac smiled, taking Kiera's small trunk from her as she walked into his apartment, examining it silently.

"It's bigger than my old place. _Mes Parents_ were a bit...confused, as to my request, so I did have to explain you to them."

Kiera froze, then asked hesitantly.

"And...what did they say?"

"They aren't opposed your living here, obviously." He gestured toward a small bed in the corner."However, they have declared that they are traveling to Paris next week, and would like to meet with."

"Next week? Well,. This will be fun..."she muttered, and he laughed.

"They aren't too terrible. My Father....well, he very much believes himself a _bourgeois_, and acts like one. You'll like _Maman_ a lot, though, I would think."

"Ah...I just hope they do not find me too poor of company for you and kick me out."

"They would never do that. _Maman_ is a big advocate on helping those in need, especially after...." he trailed off, then, clearing his throat, continued. "Anyway, I wouldn't worry too much; I have a feeling they'll like you very much."

…........

Kiera stopped going to any of the society's after the argument, claiming that it was because she needed to concentrate more on work, But they all knew the real reason, and though some felt a bit guilty, they were also relieved in thinking that she wasn't going to show up. For even if they didn't try to show it much, many of the _amis_ felt at least a bit protective over their young friend, in the same way they had been when they had met the younger Feuilly. But now he was older and could take care of himself- Kiera, on the other hand, could not.

"Maybe we are being too harsh." Courfeyrac remarked one morning a few weeks later, walking down the street with Joly and Bossuet. The latter shook his head, sighing exasperatedly.

"She absolutely cannot show up at the barricade, Courfeyrac, and you know that."

"But is that even our decision to make? We have no real power to make decisions for her."

"But we can refuse to let her stay." Joly replied. "That is, if she dares to show up. Enjolras will help us see to it that she leaves, even if we have to use more forceful means."

"That is immoral and rude," Courfeyrac muttered, "And I do not agree with it."

"This coming from the man who acts like her biological brother." Bossuet replied. ""Kiera knows we mean well, and I am sure that this will not effect you, eh hem, relationship."

Courfeyrac shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"She is a lot less willing to speak with me, and lately, she even refuses to stay in the room if another member of the society stops by."

"She will get over it , Courfeyrac." Joly smiled. "She'd just upset that she won't be able to fight."

"I still don't see wh-"

Courfeyrac froze, staring at a fiacre that had stopped in front of his apartment building. A slightly older gentleman had already stepped out, and was offering his arm to a beautiful lady. Both had dark, nearly black hair, and the mother had stormy Grey eyes that were very familiar. She turned when she saw them approaching, and broke out into a smile.

"_Bonjour_, Nicolas, _mon petit_!"

….................


	10. Chapter 10: Mes Parents

A/N: Yay! Thus spurned on by good reviews, I continue!

Also, a random quote from a good song: "I live no more to shame; nor me, nor you."

Just a good fitting quote.

Shorter chapter, but kinda powerful and important.

Anyway....

I don't own anyone but Kiera...blah blah blah.....

…....................

Chapter 10: _Mes Parents_

….......................

Courfeyrac stared down at the table, trying not to look up. His parents had forced him, Joly, Bossuet, and a quite reluctant Kiera, out to a café for lunch. Kiera, having been all but dragged out of the apartment, was quite sullen and moody. His mother kept shooting him looks, raising her eyebrows suggestively. That might have perhaps only added to her current fuming mood.

"So, _mon __petit_, how have your studies been coming?" His mother smiled warmly, finally turning away from her Kiera inspection. Courfeyrac shrugged nonchalantly, glancing at his father before speaking.

"Well enough, I suppose: they haven't kicked me out yet, at least."

"Ah, well, I guess that shall have to suffice." His mother sighed, then turned back to the silent Kiera. "So, dearie, I believe we have yet to be formally introduced; I am Corrine de Courfeyrac, Nicolas' mother."

"Pleasure to meet you, Madame." Kiera said stiffly. "I am Kiera Lynnia, an immigrant from another country. I am quite grateful to the both of you, as well as your son, for helping me out in this time of need."

"Oh, 'tis no trouble at all, dear!" Madame de Courfeyrac exclaimed, laughing brightly. "My husband and I are quite happy to help those who are in need. Though dear Nicolas does appear to attract many such people." She added. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Maman...."

"Now, son, do not take that tone with your mother." His father said a bit harshly. Courfeyrac appeared to cringe slightly, replying quickly and quietly.

"_Oui_, Papa."

His friends all gave him sympathetic glances, somewhat stunned to see him cower before his father. Kiera especially was unused to seeing parents having such a negative effect on their child. This appeared no longer to be the same happy, playful schoolboy they were all used to.

Clearing his throat loudly, Joly asked.

"So, Monsieur de Courfeyrac, what brings you and your lovely wife up north to Paris this time of the year?"

"We came to assess our son's progress." Monsieur de Courfeyrac responded. "It would not be proper to allow him to fall into a bad crowd, especially considering the such blood drinkers that roam this city."

"Papa, really, I-"

"Do not interrupt, Nicolas. Whatever happened to those manners we taught you?"

Courfeyrac bowed his head, looking dejected and defeated. Angered, Kiera ignored her past distance and stubbornness, and stood up roughly.

"Monsieur, I really must protest to the tone you're taking with your son."

"Kiera!" Courfeyrac squeaked in shock, trying to make her sit back down, but he backed down at his father's glare.

"Silence, Mademoiselle: do not speak of what you do not know. You have no right to meddle in our family's personal affairs."

"You should not be so rude and cruel to your own child." She replied scornfully.

"Kiera...." Courfeyrac pleaded once more, and this time his father turned on him.

"Silence, Nicolas: I am trying to make this young lady realize that our family runs differently than hers most likely does."

"I would not know, Monsieur." Kiera shot back. "I do not have any family."

"Does that give you the right to involve yourself in the affairs of others?" Monsieur de Courfeyrac snapped. Courfeyrac, annoyed, and fearing for his friend, forced himself not to quail as he stood up and his father turned his gaze on him.

"Let's go, Kiera, Gentlemen." Courfeyrac added to the other two men, who were still sitting in silence. As they all stood up to leave, so did his father.

"Nicolas Jean de Courfeyrac, sit back down right this instant!"

Courfeyrac flinched, but did not comply. Grabbing Kiera's arm, he walked swiftly away from the café. He didn't stop until they were about a block away. He dropped her hand, letting out a huge sigh of relief, then turned to his three friends and said.

"I am sorry that you had to witness that little...scene...."

"Why are you apologizing to us?" Bossuet replied, snorting disdainfully. "Your father should be the one apologizing to you for his highly uncouth behaviour."

"He does not need to." Courfeyrac said quietly. "And I do not expect him to. I am the ungrateful child, he is the parent."

"That is no way for a father to speak to his on." Joly said. "Even Enjolras' father speaks to him civilly, and they loathe each other."

"My father is just...worried, that I'll end up in bad crowds with the wrong people."

"Charming." Kiera muttered. "No wonder they wanted to come and meet me."

"Your little yelling at my father stunt will not have helped, _ma __chérie_." Courfeyrac sighed. "I will have to talk to them later, smooth things over a bit."

"I wouldn't" Kiera mumbled. "Your father deserved a piece of his own bloody pie."

"I shall refrain from comment." Courfeyrac replied, but there was a smile on his face once more.

…......................

"Welcome back!"

Kiera nodded towards Feuilly. She had decided to follow her friends back to the café Musain, deciding that her petty stubbornness and anger wasn't as important as helping Courfeyrac. Every minute he spent away from his father made him a bit more cheerful, until, less than hour later, he was almost completely back to normal. But Joly, Kiera, and Bossuet, were all quiet and pensive. They were still in shock over what had happened back at the café between Courfeyrac and his father. Especially Kiera, who had always imagined parents as kind, loving people who always did nice things for you...it was a shock to see a parent acting so downright rude to their son.

"Stop thinking about it, Kiera."

She looked up and saw Courfeyrac sitting next to her, frowning.

"About what?" she asked innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about. It's not your problem, Kiera, so don't let it worry you."

"Not my problem? I'm your friend, Courfeyrac; that's enough to make it my problem."

"Kiera, please!"

"Ah, you must have met the grand Monsieur de Courfeyrac."

Combeferre sat down on Courfeyrac's other side. Gratefully, Courfeyrac sighed.

"They came by this morning. I have to find them later, to apologize for some of Kiera's behaviour earlier."

"Your father's behaviour was despicable." Kiera replied coolly. "It was only right to react in the same fashion."

"Do not involve yourself in their family matters, Kiera." Combeferre responded. "What they do inside their family is their business and no one else's."

"I know that!" Kiera said loudly, and some of the others turned to stare as she stood up. "Do not think that I am ignorant on life just because my family is dead!"

"Kiera-" Courfeyrac tried, but even as he reached to grab her arm, she jerked it out of his grip.

"Don't touch me. I'll be at home." She added, turning and marching out the door. Courfeyrac stared after her, as did most of the others. They then turned to stare at him as he stared abashedly at his feet.

…...........

"I have come to see Monsieur _et_ Madame de Courfeyrac."

He hated how all of his parents servants glared at him every time he came to visit. Most likely his father's doing. He remembered vaguely a time when his father was really nice and warm, and never yelled at him or seemed disappointed at him. But that was before they lost his brother, before his father decided that he needed full control of his sons' lives, lest either of them end up with the same fate as their older brother. Because of his brother's fraternities shortly before his death, his father tried to keep Courfeyrac and his brother out of any such groups and activities. He smiled ruefully, laughing to himself. Little did his father know that Courfeyrac himself was involved in the same revolutionary groups that his beloved brother had been a part of. But it was of Gautier that he had joined to fight in the first place, against the discontent that had killed his brother.

"M. and Mme. Courfeyrac will receive you now, Monsieur."

He nodded to the servant, and entered the drawing room. Both of his parents were sitting on couches, his mother smiling, but his father glared at him with frosty blue eyes.

"So, I suppose you have come here to apologize. Well, let's hear it."

"I am terribly sorry, Papa, for Kiera's actions and words earlier. She has been working very hard at her job, so please forgive her short-temperament."

"That is no excuse for rudeness." M. de Courfeyrac snorted.

"Dear!" His wife cried softly. "Nicolas is only trying to apologize."

"And so he has. Now, Nicolas, I have something I must talk to you about." He folded his arms over his ample stomach. "I have been hearing some...rumours, of your activities, here in the city. They have told me that you have been consorting with that Enjolras boy and his talks against the King."

"Perhaps...." Courfeyrac replied quietly, to which his father turned a strange shade of puce.

"So you're telling me that those rumours are true? You really are...consorting with those filthy blood drinkers and their damn imaginations!"

"Papa, no, it's so much more than that, I sw-"

"Just like your Goddamn brother! That's right, you'll end up just like him, Nicolas, won't you?"

"No, Papa!" Courfeyrac cried desperately, but his father stood up, pointing his finger in his son's face.

"You are no son of mine! Get out of here, _Monsieur __de__ Courfeyrac_!" he mocked.

"Papa!" Courfeyrac sobbed, and Mme. de Courfeyrac cried, "Dear!"

But M. de Courfeyrac merely turned around and sat back down calmly.

"Go." he said coldly, and, blinking back tears, Courfeyrac turned and left.

….............


	11. Chapter 11: Disowned

A/N: rawr, I'm onna roll!

Also, another line from a song that reminds me of Grantaire: "I am sceptical, I like my glass of wine..."

Hee hee.

Anyway...

Still is not owning them...sigh....

…......................

Chapter 11: Disowned

….........................

"Oh my God...."

"It's really not that bad..."

Courfeyrac had returned home, and Kiera, immediately recognizing the look of despair on his face, asked what had happened. So, of course, he had told her; but he didn't want any sympathy or pity.

"Really, Kiera, it's almost as if I've been waiting for him to disown me."

"But it's not fair!" Kiera objected. "I don't care how much of a complete ass he is, you're only trying to make this world a better place!"

"I thought you didn't believe in revolution..." he muttered, then added with a sigh. "It's just not very proper, or befitting of one of our status. And the fact that I am their second child to do it...." Courfeyrac trailed off, picking up a random book lying on his desk and, flopping onto his bed, began reading it pointedly. He was obviously signalling that he wanted the conversation to be over, but Kiera wasn't finished.

"Those people in the upper classes need to look under their feet and see that there are those who need saving."

"Kiera..." he sighed, but she held up her hand.

"Hear me out. Your father does not live here in Paris normally, am I correct?"

"_Oui_, they live in Nice, but-"

"So they have not seen the conditions we live in? Courfeyrac, I've lived in the lower areas, and I've seen everything. I've seen girls just like myself, forced to whore themselves out nightly, but do they have any choice?" She scoffed. "No, and therein lies the problem. Those young ladies should be working, or going to school, but this society forces anyone with below a certain amount of income to live in utter poverty. Your father needs to see this, to realize that there is a perfectly just cause that we shall inevitably die for."

"We?" Courfeyrac repeated, dropping his book. "There is no 'we', Kiera; there is a 'you', and there is an 'us'. The 'us' is me, Enjolras, and all of the others. The 'you', my dear, is quite obviously yourself. Us, we shall be fighting when the time comes. You, on the other hand, will be staying home."

"Absolutely not!" She snapped, glaring at him from where she sat upon the windowsill. "I will joining you, and you cannot stop me. You said so yourself!"

"I hadn't thought about it before, I hadn't considered..... You can't come, Kiera!" He begged, walking over and grasping her hands. "I won't risk losing you!"

"What's the point if you yourself will be dead?" She replied snappingly.

"But that doesn't mean that you have to die as well! Kiera-"

He was cut off by a knock on the door. Giving her one last pleading glance, Courfeyrac opened it to reveal a slightly curious looking Enjolras.

"Bon soir Courfeyrac, Mademoiselle Kiera."

"Did you...hear us arguing?" Courfeyrac asked sheepishly. Enjolras nodded curtly.

"I also heard about what happened with your father. I am sorry that happened to you, Courfeyrac; if you ever want to-"

"It's fine. Dear God, everyone is making this out to be some sort of catastrophe!"

"You were just completely disowned, Courfeyrac." Enjolras replied, a bit concerned for his friend's blasé attitude. "I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation."

"I do, though." Courfeyrac said with a faint smile. "I do realize what has happened, and I'm prepared to face the consequences of my actions."

"You didn't have to tell him." Enjolras said. "You could have lied and denied everything."

"Why? Why should I lie and pretend that everything is all right again?" Courfeyrac laughed dryly. "It's better off this way, Enjolras."

"It's no use arguing with him." Kiera interjected. "I've already tried."

"Before you started yelling at each other, I assume?" Enjolras said, frowning, and they both sighed. Kiera was about to speak, but Courfeyrac blurted.

"She still plans to attend the fighting later!"

"It's my choice!" Kiera shot back. "I can and will be there, whether you like it or not!"

"No you can't, dammit!" Courfeyrac cried, stamping his foot in frustration. "No!"

"Calm down, the both of you!" Enjolras mediated. "Now." He said, pushing them both down on their appropriate beds. "You two are going to shut your mouths and listen to me. Now, Courfeyrac, I know this may not be to your liking, but after thinking for a bit," He hesitated. "Kiera is right;there is no real way for us to keep her away. Sure, we may try, and we can use whatever measures you have dreamed up, but we can't force her to do anything, Courfeyrac. She is her own being, and in the end only she can decide what she can do."

"But she can't!" Courfeyrac said quietly. "She said so herself; it's going to be dangerous. She might d-" The last word choked off.

"But you will end up dead too, Courfeyrac." She replied. "So will the others, so it matters little whether I live or die, as you will all no longer be there."

"That's not certain." Enjolras cut in, but Kiera just laughed.

"Then why are you all so concerned, if I have some chance of survival?"

"Kiera-"

"Could we stop talking about this? I have to get to bed so I can be awake at work tomorrow."

Frowning, Enjolras exited, and Kiera blew out the candle, then lay down to think.

…..........................

"Why do I always upset her?"

Bossuet sighed, patting Courfeyrac on the back as they sat in the café the next afternoon.

"She just gets upset very easily. Besides, _mon ami_, you are the one in the right."

"Doesn't mean she won't stay mad." He sighed in frustration. "All I want to do is save her, Laigle; isn't that a good thing to do?"

"It is, Courfeyrac." The other man said soothingly. "And you will find that most of us will back you up."

"Enjolras won't." Courfeyrac muttered moodily.

"He doesn't know what it feels like to care for someone the way you do, Courfeyrac." Bossuet smiled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Courfeyrac sighed. "She doesn't care for me."

"Really? Why would she be asking for your permission otherwise?"

"But she doesn't." Courfeyrac said mournfully. "She'll go, no matter what I say."

"We'll see. Who knows, she might-"

"_Bonjour__, Mes Amis_!"

Everyone turned to see Kiera walk in, holding her work bag in one hand, still dressed in her worker's dress. She had a frown on her face as she walked over to sit at Courfeyrac's side, as per the usual. As there was no formal meeting going on, most had been loafing about, trickling in as classes let up or as they pleased.

"What are you doing here?" Courfeyrac hissed, and Kiera folded her arms.

"I'm coming to see my friends. Is that not why you are here as well?"

"But I thought you weren't coming any more." Bossuet said, and Kiera just sighed.

"I didn-I was just stressed, okay?"

"I see...well, welcome back, I guess...."

"Good to be back." She smiled wanly. "I did miss you all terribly."

"Well, we missed you too." Feuilly said, flopping into the chair next to her. His hands were still covered in blotches of paint, and he had his wooden painting case with him. When he caught her staring, he explained.

"It was such a nice day today, so I took my work out to the Gardens to finish."

"Alas, I had to work indoors all say. Though I must say, I do wish I'd found a job outside, especially since things such as dust have a way of getting into your lungs." Kiera coughed quietly, and Courfeyrac, forgetting their earlier argument, frowned worriedly.

"Are you getting sick again?"

"No it's not that....." She sighed wearily. "I guess I'm more of just...tired...."

"You need to take a day off and just rest, Kiera." Feuilly said concernedly.

"Mm...." she murmured, resting her head in her arms. "Maybe I will....but what of the money I won't earn?"

"You'll be fine, Kiera." Courfeyrac assured her. "You no longer have to worry about paying for rent. That will help some."

"I s'pose..." She sighed, and Courfeyrac smiled as her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep...

…........

Kiera woke up and only to notice that somehow the chair was...bouncing....She then realized that she had somehow ended up in some sort of fiacre, along with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Yawning, she shrugged off the overcoat that had been placed over her shoulders.

"What time is it?"

"Ah, good morning Kiera." Courfeyrac smiled mischievously. "Actually, it is only about half part eleven, _à __nuit_."

Kiera's eyes widened.

"I have been asleep for over six hours! Why didn't anyone wake me?"

"You were resting quite peacefully, Kiera." Combeferre said. "Besides, you look as if you could still use some rest now."

"I am still a bit sleepy..." She sighed. "But you could have at least woken me up to go home."

"Aw, but you were so adorable, sleeping like that." Courfeyrac said with a grin, to which she hit him playfully.

"Hush, you annoying little nit; I'm trying to go back to sleep!"

…............

Kiera went back to the café the next night, fully rested and in a much better mood. No one had spoken about the conflicts going on between he rand Courfeyrac, nor did he himself say anything, most likely for the sake of keeping the peace.

"Kiera?"

Said girl looked up to see that Courfeyrac had come in, still wearing his hat and coat, leaning onto her table with what appeared to be an ironic smile. The source of it was, so it appeared, a letter, which he dropped upon the table.

"What's this?" She inquired curiously to which he merely replied.

"Just read it."

So she did. It said:

"Dear Nicolas,

As you are aware, your father has decided that he no longer wishes for you to remain a part of this family. Though I in no sense agree with this decision, I am forced to cut off all ties with you, my dear son. I was also instructed to inform you that though we shall continue to pay for your complete education in hopes that you may perhaps become better educated on the ways of the world, your father has decided that we shall no longer be paying for the rent to your apartment.

I am deeply sorry, _mon __petit_, and I do pray that you may one day come back to us;

your mother,

Corrine Antoinette de Courfeyrac."

"Ouch."

"My father has always controlled the relationship." Courfeyrac sighed wryly, slumping into the chair beside her. "Maman has always followed whatever he wishes, even if she does not agree with it."

"I can start helping to pay for the rent, Courfeyrac." Kiera said kindly. "That way you can have a bit of time to find a job."

"You don't have to." He said, shaking his head. "You're barely making enough as it is."

"But rent is due next Friday, Courfeyrac." She argued. "There is no way you will find a job and have enough to pay it by then."

"_Merde_...." he muttered, slumping forward onto the table. "What am I to do?"

"What's this about?" Combeferre asked, picking up the letter from the floor to which it had fluttered. After reading it quickly, he looked at Courfeyrac sympathetically.

"Do you need some help, mon ami? I am sure my parents would be delighted to help you if you need it."

"I would be very grateful indeed._Merci__Beaucoup_, Ettiene." Courfeyrac sighed again. "I am in such trouble, mon ami...."

"I told you." Enjolras said from a nearby table, obviously having been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Thank you, Enjolras, for pointing out the Gad be damned obvious." Courfeyrac snapped moodily, and his blonde friend leaned in, frowning.

"I didn't mean it rudely, Courfeyrac. I am truly sorry that this had to happen to you. My mother would never let my father do such a thing to me."

"My mother would never dare oppose my father's wishes." Courfeyrac muttered grimly. Kiera nodded.

"She is nice, thought; I really did like your mother."

"As do I." Combeferre smiled. "She has always been a decent person. If it weren't for your father..."

"Please, could we just drop it?" Courfeyrac said, standing up swiftly. "I'm going home to do my homework."

"I'll go with you." Kiera said, shooting a 'don't you dare say anything else stupid' look at the others before flouncing after him.

….................


	12. Chapter 12: One Step Closer

A/N: Allo! This be me, Kira-Chan, the illustrious author!

Ehm.....Well, I have nothing much to say, except that I am completely surprised that this story has made it this far (And all the way to ch. 16 in my written version. O_O)

Yay!

Also, it kinda feels like Kiera and Courfeyrac switch emotional places for the next few chapters. Which is kind of entertaining at times. :)

Anyway, still not owning anyone.

…..........................

Chapter 12: One Step Closer

….....................

"For once, it's not me running around looking for a job!"

Kiera laughed as she and Courfeyrac wandered down the streets of Paris. As it was nearly the middle of May, the weather had warmed considerably, and the streets were crowded with Parisians out enjoying the sun. Kiera and Combeferre had been paying all of the expenses while Courfeyrac tried desperately to find a job. Kiera offered to get one at the factory, but they both knew that that would never be enough to support the both of them. She also made the offer to leave and get her own apartment again, but he shot that down automatically.

"I still can't believe how hard this is..." Courfeyrac sighed, to which Kiera laughed sadly.

"I told you that when I was out looking the last time. And this will be considerably harder, considering how much you would have to make if you sincerely wish to continue supporting the both of us."

"I told you, you don't have to leave. Now, if only Feuilly wasn't busy..." he muttered. "He'd be a ton of help."

"Just hush and keep on walking, we're almost there."

They walked in silence until they came upon the building they were searching for. It was a large house, where they had been told the man of the house was in need of a well-learned clerk. And, as an added bonus, he was rich, and paid well. But this being the fourth they had tried in this single day alone, they weren't too optimistic.

"Well, nothing for it, I guess." Kiera sighed, to which Courfeyrac replied.

"Let's just get this over with...."

…..........................

"Congratulations on getting your first job!"

"_Merci__, mon ami_!" Courfeyrac said to Joly, and laughed in relief. "I am still simply agog! Ah what luck, what happiness...and what wages!"

"Ten francs a day..." Kiera said, smiling. "We can have enough for everything, and then some!"

"We can get you something nice!" Courfeyrac said jovially.

"But how are you going to juggle your school on top of work?" Enjolras inquired, and Courfeyrac mellowed slightly.

"I....I'll manage, I guess. My new boss did say that I was excused to go to my classes, and be there when I am not."

"That sounds like a lot of work, Courfeyrac." Combeferre said worriedly. "Are you sure that you will be able to handle this all at once?"

"I believe I can manage." Courfeyrac replied crisply. "Must you always sour my mood?"

"But you do need to watch yourself." Kiera said. "Make sure you don't overwork yourself."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle Hypocrite."

Kiera sighed, shaking her head.

"I could have gotten a different job, Courfeyrac; you know I have experience, and I am not currently attempting to graduate from college."

"You work enough already." Bossuet said. "More than any woman should. You should be at home, watering the flowers and cooking Courfeyrac's dinner."

"Sounds like fun..." She grumbled sarcastically. "But I think I'll pass."

Everyone laughed as more wine was poured and the night grew old.

…................

The next morning found Kiera and Courfeyrac both heading off to work. It was a Saturday, so Courfeyrac had only one lecture class that evening.

"You don't have to drop me off everyday." Kiera sighed. "You make me feel like such a child."

"You are only Seventeen years old, Kiera."

"In other words, I am a young woman." She replied. "Hell, anyone who lives on the streets here quickly cross into adulthood."

Courfeyrac just nodded distractedly, his mind on the day ahead of him, and the many after it. He was nervous, having never needed to have a real job before. He was going to school for law, and he had never planned on working until he had completed his schooling. But nothing ever went as planned, he had now realized. He had never considered his father disowning him, never imagined a girl such as Kiera waltzing into his life. Life was full of surprises; and that was why it annoyed him.

…..........................

"Courfeyrac...."

"Five more minutes, _Maman_...." The student muttered at Enjolras. It was later that evening, and the two of them were the only ones still left in the café. Kiera had left hours ago, but she had left him asleep at the table, mostly because there was no way she could could carry him home. Enjolras sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair.

"Courfeyrac, get up,_s'il__-__vous__plaît_."

"_Non __n'aime__ pas_..." Courfeyrac mumbled, and Enjolras sighed.

"_S'il__-__vous__plaît__, _Nicolas, you need to get up."

"Wha...?" The dark-haired student blinked open his eyes. "Where am I? What happened to Kiera and the others?"

"They left awhile ago. You should get home, Nicolas" Enjolras replied, "Before Kiera gets worried."

"You haven't called me that in a while..." Courfeyrac smiled wearily. "You never use our first names anymore."

"I suppose it just...isn't very formal." Enjolras sighed. "It's just not the way it used to be, Courfeyrac."

"I know..." Courfeyrac said sadly. "Well, I better head home and catch what sleep I may. _Bon soir_, Apollo."

Enjolras sighed, but replied with a smile.

"_Bon soir,_ Nicolas."

…............

The next week went by in more of the same fashion. Courfeyrac was once again falling asleep at the café more often than not, his work on top of school and everyday life appearing to tire him immensely. Kiera was worried, and she told him so, but he simply waved it off. They were fighting more and more often, Courfeyrac's tiredness only adding to his temper, as well as hers. After one such fight the second week, Kiera had marched out in anger, deciding to attempt to calm herself by taking a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens. It was there that she happened upon a particularly dreamy Marius.

"_Bonjour_, Monsieur Marius."

It took him a moment to recognize the girl in front of him.

"Hm? Oh, _bonjour_, Kiera; I almost didn't recognize you, all dressed up like that."

"I don't have to work today." She replied, slumping onto a bench. "But Courfeyrac does. I won't see him again until late tonight. Stubborn ass..." She added moodily. Marius sighed as well, sitting beside her.

"Ah, yes, Bossuet told me everything. I imagine it's hard on the poor man."

"It is." She muttered. "Which has made him really short-tempered lately. I just don't understand that man."

"I don't think anyone truly does, Kiera." Marius said ruefully. "He's an enigma himself; but I think that's maybe why he's so popular..."

"Or it could be that every single bloody thing is a joke to him." Kiera sighed again. "I don't want to fight with him, but I know there are ways that I can help as well."

"As you said," Marius said, standing up, "He is a stubborn ass. _Á__bient__ô__t_, Kiera."

She just nodded in response, staring at the sky, going over in her mind what had just been discussed.

…...................

"_Bon soir, mes __amis_...."

An exhausted Courfeyrac wandered into the café two days later for a meeting. Enjolras and Combeferre were the only ones missing, since it was an earlier meeting and they were just finishing class. Courfeyrac decided to take advantage of this and went over to his usual corner table with Kiera and Feuilly. As he leaned wearily onto the table, Kiera stared, her green eyes so full of worry that he felt guilty. Although, perhaps this was a bit of a comeback for doing the same to him....Not that he thought of it in that way. Or did he? His tired mind could not comprehend such complicated thoughts these days. He had been yelled at many times the past two weeks for falling asleep or zoning out in class. Just as he was now.....

He snapped awake what seemed seconds later at the sound of hushed voices. The first thing he noticed was that it had gotten dark , and Enjolras and Combeferre had sat down at their table, conversing quietly with Kiera and Feuilly.

"What's happening?" He yawned, stretching his arms. Enjolras looked up from the sheet he had been writing on.

"General Lamarque has fallen ill, and rumour says he may not last long. The time is close."

"Really?" Courfeyrac said, sitting up straight in shock.

"_Oui__, mon ami_." Combeferre sighed. "All of the groups have agreed. Should he die, his funeral will be the sign, our signal to begin."

"_Merde_..." Courfeyrac breathed. "So soon..."

"Tell me about it." Kiera replied, and he glared at her.

"Let's not start this again. You know I won't let you, and that's final."

"And you have no power over me." Kiera replied curtly. "End of discussion."

"It sure as hell is no-"

"Please don't start with all this again." Combeferre moaned. "There is too much to be done without inner-group fighting."

"Sorry..." Kiera muttered.

"I...me too, I guess..." Courfeyrac said wearily. "I suppose I haven't been a very friendly person lately..."

"You've been working very hard." Enjolras replied, going back to his scribblings. "We understand that you have been doing a lot lately. Hence why we let you sleep."

"But all of you have been doing most of the planning whilst I have been sleeping." Courfeyrac objected. "I'll have no bloody idea on what we're doing!"

"You should be worried about more important things." Feuilly said. "Such as taking care of yourself and Kiera."

"I'm doing just fine, thank you very much." Kiera said in response. "He doesn't have to go and worry about me."

"Except for that little accident at the factory a few days ago." Feuilly retorted, and Courfeyrac blinked in surprise.

"What accident?"

"It's nothing" Kiera mumbled, glaring at at Feuilly. "I just sprained my wrist, not even that badly. Dear God, you worry too much!"

"You get hurt too often." Enjolras replied. "And it worries us more when you don't tell us things."

"It's not that big of a deal!" Kiera snapped. "I don't want everyone to be so god damned worried."

"Then do not come to the barricade!" Courfeyrac snarled, and everyone turned and glared in exasperation. "What? You all know that that's why we get worried! It's not about any of these smaller accidents!"

"Courfeyrac, just shut the hell up!" Kiera said snappily.

"No I won't! I don't want you to die, dammit! I lo-!" He choked off the last word, then, grabbing his book bag and coat, dashed out of the café, calling back. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'm-I'm going home to sleep!"

His four friends were left behind, staring in his wake before turning back to glance at each other.

….............


	13. Chapter 13: A Red June Dawns

A/N: Rawr. Dis be the illustrious author once more, ready and roarin' for another fun filled chapter!

Also, huge thanks to reviewers! You guys make me actually wanna type! :)

Oh, and there's also a subtle quote from a play that I think only my friend Rona-Chan might get. X)

Also, the unlucky chapter 13! oooOOOoooOOO!!!

Not owning anyone once again....'cept Kiera....

…............

Chapter 13: A Red June Dawns

….................

"So, _ma __chérie_, we have saved currently over 1,000 francs."

"Really?" Kiera smiled at Courfeyrac as he put all of their money back into the small box they kept it in. "That's amazing! And next week, it will be close to 100 more."

"If we make it to next week." Courfeyrac sighed. "General Lamarque is not getting any better. Bloody Hell, he could die any minute, and it will all begin."

"The clock that ticks down to our fates ticks ever quickly." Kiera quipped eloquently, ignoring her friends glare at the 'our'. "Ticking ever closer, until it eventually halts."

"You've been around Jehan too much." Courfeyrac snorted. "You're turning poet."

"Oh, hush, you." She chuckled. "I've merely been doing a lot of reading lately not much else to do while I wait for you to return home."

"What sort of reading?" He inquired, and she shrugged.

"A lot of Poetry, like Shakespeare. Monsieur Prouvaire has a lot of books of his sonnets ans such, so I have borrowed them from him."

"I suppose they are lovely." He agreed. "But I don't think I would read too many unless it was for school."

"I do love them, though." Kiera smiled softly. "Although Monsieur Prouvaire's are very beautiful as well."

"He is quite the writer." Courfeyrac remarked, And Kiera nodded.

"Well, I best be off to work. See you tonight."

"_Au __revoir_." Courfeyrac called, then turned back and sat down on his bed. It was his day off, since the man he worked for was away on business until the next evening. Sighing, he looked around the room, and his gaze fell upon an unfamiliar book that sat on Kiera's pillow. He picked it up out of curiosity, and, with nothing better to do, began reading....

…........

"_Bonjour_!" Kiera called as she walked into the café that evening. Enjolras and Courfeyrac were the only two teat remained, Enjolras planning, and Courfeyrac seemingly doing his homework. She walked over and sat down next to him.

"'_Justice of the French legal system._'" She read out loud. "Sounds exciting." She added sarcastically.

"And it's due tomorrow." He sighed. "Where is Jehan when you need him?"

"Let me see." Kiera scooted his paper over. Upon reading, she chuckled.

"Well, first off, you may want to put the correct date. It's the first of June, not May."

"Really?" Courfeyrac sighed. "I'll change that, then. I have no clue how I mixed that up."

"Our sense of time has been skewed lately." Kiera explained. "It's from all you have been doing lately."

"You have been too." Courfeyrac retorted.

"you both have been working too hard." Enjolras said, not looking up from his paper. "This society forces good people like you two into hardship."

"I'd hardly call it that." Kiera snorted. "My whole life had been Hell up to now. This has been the best point in my life thus far."

"But that's not right, Kiera!" Courfeyrac sighed. "You should have had a good life; you're a good person."

"indeed." Enjolras remarked, then, seeing the question on her face, added. "And your parents didn't deserve their fates either."

"But they died for the same reason you will." Kiera whispered hauntingly. "My..my parents and sister died in a revolution. Th-they were good people t-too." Her voice shook as she spoke. "Didn't th-they deserve a good l-life? If not, th-then why do I?"

Courfeyrac pulled her into his arms, stoking her hair softly as he said soothingly.

"They died for a good cause, Kiera. And I don't ever want to hear you say that you don't deserve to live again." He added sternly. "Because...you do, _ma __chérie._..."

"But why? What reason do I live for?" She sobbed, burying her head into her hands. "Why is it th-that I live, while so many that I l-loved lie dead and buried?"

"I don't know, Kiera." Courfeyrac whispered softly. "But there must be some reason that you survived, so don't let it go to waste."

…..................

Kiera sighed wearily as she headed off to work the next morning. Her eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and bloodshot, her having spent most of the previous night crying and reflecting on the past that she had tried to keep buried for so long. Courfeyrac had left her alone after awhile, to which she was grateful. That morning he had also woken up early and left her breakfast as well as a small note before he left for work. She smiled as she thought about it; it had definitely brightened her mood, if only a bit...

"Move it, bitch!"

Kiera glared at the man who had just shoved her to the ground. Her arm smarted, and the hem of her dress had torn. She muttered curses under her breath as she picked herself up and grabbed her bag from where it had landed a few feet away. Sighing, she brushed herself off and continued on her way down the street. She seethed silently, however, as she rubbed her now bruised arm, wondering if she had a longer sleeved dress at home to cover it up, lest any of her friends notice....

…..................

"Monsieur, might it be be possible that I may go quickly to the post office?"

Courfeyrac stood patiently by the desk of his employer, feeling for the letter he knew was in his pocket. It was important to get it delivered before it was too late; that was the reason he had originally woken up so early. After he had written the letter, he had already debated many times over throwing it away and forgetting about it; hence why he wanted to post it, before gave in and actually did toss it. His boss waved him off.

"Certainly, my boy; you deserve a bit of a break, anyway."

Courfeyrac bowed, and then hurried off toward the post office, He was halfway there when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Combeferre loping toward him.

"Bonjour, 'Ferre." He said with a smile. "Do you not have class today?"

"We were taking a test." Combeferre replied. "What about you; aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I have to run by the post office to post a letter." Courfeyrac said. "Monsieur allowed me to take a short break."

"A letter? To whom, might I ask, do you send a letter?"

"Um...." Combeferre muttered, then said hesitantly. "My father."

"Your father?" Combeferre said in shock. "Courfeyrac, what on this bloody earth do you wish to send him a letter for?"

"I just have to ask him something..." Courfeyrac mumbled. "Before it's too late."

"Are you trying to make things up with your father?" Combeferre inquired, but Courfeyrac shook his head mournfully.

"I don't think that he will forgive me that easily, nor can I expect him to. By the time he perhaps realizes what he has done, it will be too late to change anything."

"Then why are you writing to him?" Combeferre asked kindly, and Courfeyrac turned slightly pink."

"Well...I...it's about Kiera." He muttered, and Combeferre raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"You mean....?"

Courfeyrac nodded, sighing.

"My only hope is if _Maman_ opens it before he does; maybe she can help persuade him before time runs out."

…......................

When Kiera walked into the café that evening, she tried to avoid the icy stare of Enjolras. She felt her face burn with shame, knowing that he was remembering the previous night's events. She felt like such a wuss for crying so much in front of both her friends.

"Bonjour." She muttered as she sat at her usual table. Both Feuilly and Prouvaire writing; for Prouvaire, it wasn't unusual, but for Feuilly....

"What are you writing?" She inquired. He sighed wearily.

"Just a few items for Enjolras, as I am one of the few here not currently attending school."

"I would have thought their revolution came before school." She grumbled sarcastically, and Prouvaire chuckled wryly.

"Unless perchance it happens sometime in the next four days, Mademoiselle, many of us shall have finals to worry over."

"It may very well happen sooner." Kiera replied. "I heard from somebody at the factory that General Lamarque is getting worse. It's only a matter of time."

"And we shall have to use that time wisely." Feuilly replied, scribbling on his paper quickly. "Meaning those of us who are not swamped with work or school must work twice as hard to make up for those who are."

"I can help." Kiera offered. "Seeing as I only have to work. There is no way that Courfeyrac will be able to do anything, especially if he has tests coming up."

"But you work too, Kiera." Feuilly said, to which she retorted.

"As do you. Why are all of you so adamant on not letting me help with anything?"

"Because maybe we have a faint hope that you shall forget this silly notion of joining us."

All three turned to see Courfeyrac standing behind Kiera. He had a frown on his face as he sat down in the chair next to hers.

"Hello to you too." She muttered. "Let's not get started on this again, alright? Life is much too short to spend what we have left fighting amongst ourselves."

"I...okay..." Courfeyrac sighed resignedly. "How was everyone's day?"

"Fine." Kiera replied, absent-mindedly rubbing her bruised arm, now covered by her long sleeved dress. Feuilly was the only one who noticed.

"What's wrong with your arm, Kiera?"

"Nothing." She said, if a bit too quickly. Now Courfeyrac had noticed, and grabbed her arm, seeing her wince as he did so. He pulled up her sleeve to reveal blue-green bruises that covered most of her forearm. His frown deepened.

"What happened?" He demanded. Kiera just jerked her arm back, snapping.

"Nothing, as I said. It was just some jerk who...accidentally, knocked me over in the street this morning. My God, you worry a lot."

"Only because you appear to attract trouble,." Feuilly sighed. "Kiera..."

"It's not that bad." Kiera retorted. "Really; it doesn't even hurt that badly."

"Still..." Courfeyrac said, concerned, but Kiera just muttered.

"Could we please just drop the subject?" She sighed. "Why is it every time any little bloody thing happens to me, everyone sits here and blows it out of proportion?"

"Kiera-"

"Enough! I'm going home."

She flounced out of the café, leaving her exasperated friends behind her.

…......................

"Any news on General Lamarque? Kiera asked Courfeyrac as he came back to the apartment. He sighed, shaking his head grimly.

"Only that he is most definitely not getting any better. Oh.." He moaned, flopping onto his bed. "It's all moving too damn fast."

"You should have expected this, Courfeyrac." Kiera replied, flipping absently through a book. "Revolutions aren't easy."

"But I don't fell like we're going about this the right way! I keep trying to think about this optimistically, but...it's so hard."

"I know..." Kiera whispered with a sad smile, closing her book with a sigh. "To me, there is no possible way to look at this in any lighter light. It's a dark, sad Business, Courfeyrac, and that's all it'll ever be."

"But it's my job to stay optimistic, to be the comic relief." He laughed morosely. "I guess I haven't been doing a very good job lately."

"It's my fault." Kiera said sadly. "It's because I'm here. I guess...I haven't been very good company, have I?"

"....no...." Courfeyrac admitted, then added with awry smile. "But neither am I."

"Well, aren't we just a grand pair of miserable people." Kiera teased. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"You got me." He laughed. "One of us has to stay happy, or we'll be in a sad state before long."

"That's not very..pun-ny!"

And in a moment they were both laughing helplessly. After nearly a quarter of an hour, Kiera finally caught her breath, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes with her sleeve.

"That felt really nice, just to sit here and laugh like that."

"You look more beautiful when you're laughing." Courfeyrac said, then blushed when she stared at him in awe.

"What did you say?"

"N-nothing. Nothing at all." He muttered, still blushing as he went over to his desk and began taking out his schoolbooks to study. But as he picked up his pen and started to write, he heard Kiera creep over and whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."

…....................

"She just keeps coming back, doesn't she?"

Enjolras just nodded at Combeferre. The latter was staring at Kiera, who had once again joined her friends at the Café Musain. Combeferre frowned, his gaze turning to the man sitting next to her.

"We have been trying our hardest to make her stay away, but she will never leave Courfeyrac in this alone."

"But all he wants is for Kiera to keep away from all this." Enjolras sighed, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples tiredly. "In my opinion, we have no right to stop Kiera from doing anything, no matter how we feel to the contrary."

"I am assuming that is why he has been avoiding you lately?" Combeferre shook his head mournfully. "He needs to figure this out soon, before Lamarque dies and everything begins."

"That letter to his father won't help matters." Enjolras remarked. "What was he thinking; does he really believe that he can get his father to agree after being disowned like that."

"He knows that we're out of time, Enjolras. He just wants to try and set things right. Although, I don't think he can, what with his father-"

"Hush, he's coming over!"

"I can hear you from over there, you know." Courfeyrac said coolly, and both of his friends flushed in shame. "And I am sure Kiera could as well, even if she chooses not to show it."

"We're sorry, Courfeyrac, we were just-"

"Gossiping like old ladies?" Courfeyrac snorted. "And here I thought you were both better than that."

"Courfeyrac, please-"

"Since when were my problems so important to you?"

"Will you please, just shut up!" Combeferre snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "God, I think Kiera's been rubbing off on you."

"No, I'm just....tired, I guess." Courfeyrac sighed. "I'm almost wishing for this_é__meute_ to start."

"Don't say that!" Enjolras said worriedly. "Courfeyrac, you don't mean it!"

"I do; I can't continue living like this, Enjolras. I-I can't keep shuffling work and school for thirteen hours every day."

"Kiera could help." Combeferre said kindly. "And you know I am more than willing as well. You are right, you shouldn't have to do all this by yourself."

"But I don't need anyone doing it for me, either." Courfeyrac replied.

"Then who's going to take care of Kiera, Courfeyrac? When you're dead and gone, who's going to take care of he welfare, if you have your way and she survives?"

"I don't know!" Courfeyrac snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. "Goddammit! I just...I don't know..." He put his head in his hands, defeated. Just as Enjolras was about to reply, a breathless Gavroche slammed open the door. After taking a second to catch his breath, the young gamin stood up straight an, staring right at Enjolras, announced loudly.

"General Lamarque is dead!"

A hush fell across the room. It was June 3rd, 1832, and all Hell was about to break loose.

…................................


	14. Chapter 14: The Blood of Angry Men

A/N: Hello! Me again, and finally, the battle begins!

Also, I think our school's play put some strange ideas into my mind....

And again, just something I forgot to put in a reply to someone, but all of these reviewers? I only know one of them well. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

Not owning any of them but Kiera. Some of the dialogue in places for the next few chapters belonging to Victor Hugo.

…................

Chapter 14: June 5th, 1832, Part One: The Blood of Angry Men

….....................

June 5th dawned with the promise of rain. The perfect weather for a funeral. Courfeyrac woke up bright and early, walking quietly in hopes that he would not wake his roommate. But when he came back into the room after having a brief chat with the concierge, Kiera was wide awake, already dressed, and pinning her hair up as she usually did for work. He felt dread well in his heart as it finally set in. She stared at him from the mirror.

"Bon Matin, Courfeyrac; did you sleep well?" She acted as if it was any other morning. He tried to look angry, but he couldn't keep it up.

"I suppose." He replied, if a bit coldly.

"Why do you glare at me, then?"

He tried to suppress his sudden flow of emotion, but he failed.

"You are not leaving this room!" He blurted.

"Sure I am." Kiera replied flippantly, as if it were the most ridiculous question she had ever heard. Courfeyrac bit back an angry response and took a few calming deep breaths. Then, more gently, he said.

"Kiera, we've already discussed this-"

"And Enjolras says it's fine."

"He said we couldn't force you not to come." Courfeyrac replied. "There's a difference."

"It doesn't matter. I'm coming with you." She said with a sigh. "I know you don't want me to, but there's nothing you can do about it."

"I will, Kiera, I swear, I will stop you!" he ground his teeth in frustration, racking his brain for some plan....aha!

He sighed, sitting on his bed as if giving up in defeat. Kiera smiled at him from the mirror.

"You don't have to worry, Courfeyrac. Haven't I told you repeatedly that I've been through this before? And see, I'm still ali-"

She was startled by the sudden feel of his arms, hugging her tightly. Confused, she asked warily.

"Courfeyrac?"

"I'm sorry." Was all he replied, and then she realised all too late that he had moved away towards the door. She moved as quickly as she could, but he slammed it when she was still over a foot away, and she heard his key turning in the lock. The door locked and unlocked only from the outside; she was locked in.

"Courfeyrac!" She yelled, banging her fists on the door. "Courfeyrac, dammit, unlock this door right this instant! Nicolas Jean Courfeyrac, I know you can hear me! Don't you dare walk away!"

She could hear the door creak as he leaned against it. She could barely hear him whisper.

"I'm sorry Kiera, but this is the only way..."

"No it isn't! You can't leave me here, Courfeyrac!" She cried. "I won't stay here while all of you go off and fight! Courfeyrac!"

"I'm sorry." was all he replied, and then she heard voices and his footsteps as he walked away. SHE started banging on the door once again, crying helplessly.

"Don't leave me behind! Courfeyrac, please, don't leave me!"

….......................

Combeferre walked down the hallway with Enjolras to pick up Courfeyrac for the funeral, only to find the man standing in front of his door, his expression purposefully blank. He stared at the wood, not even seeming to register the shrieks coming from inside.

"I am assuming that is Kiera?"

Courfeyrac jumped, but recovered himself quickly and sighed.

"_Oui_. I had to resort to...forceful measures."

"You did the right thing." Combeferre said quietly, seeing the regret in his friends stormy eyes. "She will forgive you, should we return."

"I suppose..." Courfeyrac muttered, then put his hat on his head, expression empty. Enjolras remained silent, but every now and then his blue gaze would flicker to the oak door, and the yells that echoed down the halls.

…...........

Kiera banged on the door, long after her friends' footsteps retreated down the hallway. Eventually, tears stinging in her eyes, she stormed over to her bed and flopped on it. She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe that he could do such a thing to her....

"I hate him." She growled. "I hate him."

And then she punched her pillow, trying to release her anger, but it was still there, a burning flame inside her heart. She couldn't believe that she had been tricked so easily. She had thought about it all night, and thought she could find some way to dodge him. But she was wrong, and now she was stuck here, with no way to-

The window. She leapt out of her bed and ran towards it. They were on the second floor, so it was over a hundred meters to the ground. She was about to turn away, cursing in he ranger, when she noticed the tree that grew less than three feet away from the façade of the building. A smile spread slowly across her face. But, of course, she couldn't climb trees in her dress....besides, anyone would recognize her in it. With a grin, she advanced upon the wardrobe....

….....................

A large group of people walked down the street, cheering loudly and at random. As the mob passed an alleyway, they were joined by a younger man, wearing student's clothes and a messenger cap pulled low over his hair. He glanced around furtively at the students around him. There was one other slightly awkward looking fellow, who gravitated towards him by the natural sequence of human thought.

"_Bonjour_, Monsieur." The one wearing student's clothes said. The other, who wore somewhat ratty workman's gear, and a similar hat that covered most of his brown hair. He looked up at the student with long-lashed hazel eyes.

"Ah, _b-__bonjour_, I guess....Do you know if Monsieur Marius Pontmercy will be here?"

The student shrugged, glancing around him once again.

"I have no clue; he isn't very active in the society."

"But Monsieur Marius is good friends with the Monsieur Courfeyrac, is he not?"

"Hm? Oh,_ oui,_ I believe he is..." The student started looking more and more uncomfortable. Finally, after a few more minutes of marching, the workman asked.

"Begging your pardon, Monsieur, but...are you really a man?"

The student flinched guiltily, but recovered quickly.

"Perhaps not. But if so, Monsieur, I would have to say that you are also concealing yourself."

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, before the student turned away with a sigh.

"Indeed, I am not."

"Nor am I." The worker grinned toothily. "What is your real name, Mademoiselle?"

The girl dressed as the student glanced around them carefully before replying.

"Kiera. Kiera Lynnia; and you, Mademoiselle?"

"I am Eponine Thenardier, Marius' neighbour."

"Nice to meet y-" Kiera fell silent a young man with auburn hair drifted closer; Feuilly, and along with him was Jean Prouvaire. Both were still over-dressed, but Kiera was almost certain that she saw guns tucked in their waistcoats. She heard the young fanmaker sigh as he spotted Courfeyrac's apartment in the distance.

"So, I suppose you have heard about where Kiera is?"

Said girl twitched, unconsciously tugging her hat lower over her face as Prouvaire replied.

"Indeed I have. An unethical way of keeping her away, but it is highly effective. And I'm sure it will make him feel much better, knowing she is safe."

Kiera felt her gut twinge with guilt, but it was replaced by dread as she saw Courfeyrac, who marched at the head of the group, say something to Enjolras before heading into his apartment building. Her heart nearly stopped as she stumbled along, waiting for him to re-emerge....

She didn't have long to wait. Only a few minutes later, just as she passed the building, he shot out of it, face pale, grey eyes wide as he glanced around furtively. He rejoined the group, and Feuilly called him over.

Whatever's the matter, Nicolas?"

"Sh-she's gone!" Courfeyrac stammered, his limbs trembling slightly as he tried to keep pace. "I don't k-know how she got out! I-I swear, the door was locked! I gave the landlady specific instructions not to...how did she get out?"

"Do calm down, Nicolas.." Feuilly said kindly, But Courfeyrac just shook his head, glancing jerkily around him. Kiera melted back into the crowd, trying to act inconspicuous while listening in on her friend's conversation.

"But how on earth did she get out?"

That was Prouvaire, obviously trying to figure out what had happened, but Courfeyrac just shook his head numbly.

"I don't know....I don' know!" He repeated in frustration. "And where could she have gone?"

"Where else?" Feuilly replied. "She will join us, you know she will."

"But what if we don't see her? She could get shot, and we would never even know!"

"She will not, Courfeyrac." Prouvaire said gently. "We shall be looking out for her."

"We have to find her first!"

Kiera moved away, not wanting to sit under their watchful gazes too long lest they figure her out. She tried to find the girl from before, but she way nowhere to be seen, so she merely tried her hardest to blend in with the crowd as they marched down the Rue Sant-Denis_._

…......

The group stopped when Courfeyrac was hailed by Bossuet from the window of Corinth. At the eagle's suggestion, they began to build the barricade right across the Rue de la Chanvrerie, well as a small one on one of the adjacent streets. Kiera opted for the latter, knowing that Courfeyrac would most likely be helping lead construction of the larger one. The only one of her friends working with her was Bossuet, but she decided that she would be fine, as long as she didn't talk. However, it was decidedly difficult not to speak, especially when Courfeyrac came over and asked her how everything was going, and she had been forced to flee from him. He was still glancing anxiously amongst the workers, most likely hoping to find her among them. Each time, his eyes passed right over her, and she felt her face burn with guilt as he finally sighed and walked away. Near completion, the girl she had met before, Eponine, showed up. She nodded toward Kiera, and Kiera walked over.

"Did you find Marius?"

With a slightly frightening smile, Eponine nodded.

"He'll be showing up soon."

"Oh..?" Kiera asked curiously, but Eponine just wandered away, leaving Kiera once again alone.

….......................

Kiera felt her cheeks burn as she tried not to glance to either side of her. She had been positioned on the barricade between Jean Prouvaire and Bahorel. Both were trying to engage her in conversation, which she avoided with a few mumbled words. Only Prouvaire seemed to be suspicious of her, but they were almost gratefully distracted by a loud yell from the other side of the barricade.

"Who goes there?"

The was a heart-stopping pause before Enjolras, being the leader of the group, cleared his throat and shouted.

"The French Revolution!"

"Fire!"

There was a flurry of activity on their side of the barricade as shots rang out. Kiera noticed most on their side were shooting at random. She knew that it was impossible for her to reprimand them, so she was relieved to hear Courfeyrac yell.

"Comrades, do not waste the powder! Wait until they come down the street!"

Every now and then she could hear Prouvaire muttering eloquent curses under his breath, and she felt a small smile creep onto her face. But the smile soon slipped away as she noticed the guard creeping closer. As she sat, she noticed the flag that had fallen to the ground during the Guard's first few volleys. Enjolras stooped to pick it up, and she watched as he called out for a volunteer to take the flag and replace it. No one dared to do it, knowing how vulnerable they would be at the top of the barricade. Kiera felt a strange urge to go down and volunteer herself, go out grandly...but no, that was stupid. Instead, she sat and waited, and finally the old M. Mabeuf, who she knew from when Marius had pointed him out to her, picked up the flag. Kiera shut her eyes as cold apprehension flooded through her body, and she winced as the old man cried out:

"_Vive__ la __r__é__volution_! Fraternity, equality; and death!"

Kiera winced once again as the officer yelled "Fire!" and he sound of grapeshot whizzing above her. When she opened her eyes thirty seconds later, the old man lay on the ground. She turned away and tuned out as Enjolras began addressing the crowd, swallowing the bile that had crept up her throat. IT was all the same, all over again...

She gasped suddenly when she noticed the bayonets rising over the top of the barricade. Gavroche, who she hadn't noticed 'til then, cried out.

"Watch out!"

All of the men who had left their positions rushed back. Kiera gasped in horror not even a minute later as she saw Bahorel stabbed right beside her. Prouvaire clenched his teeth, trying not to cry as the emotional man was wont to do. She wanted desperately to comfort him, to encourage him, but she couldn't, for more than one reason. Then she noticed that one of the soldiers had his musket pointed at her friend, at the same time that she heard Courfeyrac crying "Help!" She quickly fired her own musket at the guard behind her poet friend, and was about to turn around when someone grabbed her shoulder and tugged her backwards. A scream erupted from her mouth without her meaning it to. A musket ball whizzed past her head, nailing the soldier behind her. She tottered, nearly falling completely off of the barricade, until a strong arm wrapped itself around her and pulled her back.

"What do you think you are doing here?"

Prouvaire stared at her, eyes angry yet still full of concern. He gazed at her for a moment, then repeated his inquiry.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to help." Kiera said, ducking under the cover of the barricade as grapeshot and bullets showered around them.

"How did you escape from Courfeyrac's room? He keeps swearing that he locked you in."

"He did." Kiera said shortly, trying to concentrate on the battle, "I used the window."

But the poet wouldn't leave her be.

"You must leave, Mademoiselle! You risk getting yourself shot!"

"And as if I wasn't the one who told everyone that months ago." She said sarcastically. "I'll be fine: just worry about yourself."

Prouvaire didn't get a chance to respond as a soldier saw them and clambered over. Kiera stood up, pulling herself and Prouvaire out of reach, going higher and higher as they tried to stay out of reach. However, at the top of the barricade, there was another soldier. Kiera tried to kick him away, but was forced back by the man's jabbing bayonet. As she stumbled, her hat flew off, and as she reached to grab it, she totted off the barricade. Prouvaire tried to grab her, but that only resulted in the both of them tumbling off of the barricade and onto the ground. When they both looked up, however, they realized with horror that they had landed on the wrong side.

….............................

"Did you hear that?" Courfeyrac asked Combeferre, who was standing next to him. The medical student shook his head.

"Hear what?"

"Kiera; I swear, I heard Kiera!"

"It's a bloody wonder that you could hear anyone over this." Combeferre replied. "I'm sure if Kiera is here someone already found her. She'll be fine."

"I hope so..."

…...............................

"You damn bastards! Get your bloody hands off of her!"

Jean Prouvaire tried to struggle out of the soldiers' grips, but they were too strong. Two more held onto Kiera, but she didn't struggle, seemingly numb from shock. Her eyes were glazed over, and her hair hung limply to frame her face. She hadn't said a word since they had been taken prisoner. They did see something through the thick smoke, though. Someone had climbed atop the barricade, holding a torch in his hand.

"Get back, or I'll blow up the barricade!

It was Marius. Kiera finally looked up, eyes wide and scared as she watched him dip the flame closer towards a keg of powder. But all of the soldiers had scurried back, pulling their two prisoners with them.

"What do we do with them?" One soldier asked. The captain of the guard gestured towards a wall.

"Bring 'em over there, and grab me about fifteen of our best gunmen. We are going to make an example of these two."

Kiera and Prouvaire exchanged horrified glances once more. They knew exactly what that meant.

….................................

On the other side of the barricade, they had just taken a headcount. The only one of their friends that was missing was the dear poet; Jean Prouvaire.

…...................

Feuilly ran down the stairs three at a time, hoping to god that he made it down in time. His position on the top floor of the building gave him a perfect view of the barricade, and he had seen Kiera when her hat flew off, seen both her and Prouvaire fall over to the other side. But as they had been in the middle of fighting, there was no way to either run down himself or send a message to his friends. Just as he dashed out into the main room, he saw Combeferre and Enjolras running in.

"Feuilly! I thought you were supposed to stay upstairs."

"Etienne!! It's about Jehan-"

"I know, he has been taken prisoner." Combeferre said, but Feuilly shook his head urgently.

"No, you don't understand, Kiera is-"

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac ran in. "What's going on?"

"Jehan has been taken prisoner-"

"And Kiera, she's-"

Everyone hushed suddenly at the sound of many guns cocking. A manly voice cried out loudly.

"_Vive__ la France_! Long live the future!"

A girl screamed, and then there was the bang of many guns going off. All activity and sound on the barricade ceased, except for the faint choked cry emitting from the door of the café.

…....................................


	15. Chapter 15: The Blood of a Poet

A/N: More lyrics that I believe fit this story and LM in general:

"And I will be a revolution  
Be a voice beyond these lies  
If it takes my life  
And I will not be lost in silence  
I will not let darkness hide  
This hope beyond my sight  
The revolution"

Response to "kill the sues"-

I DO listen to the CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. I do not, however, listen to flamers who have nothing better to do with their review than repeat the same bloody thing that everyone else has, which you seem to be doing as well. If you ask some of my old reviewers, INCLUDING the person you have been quoting, they have already said that I have been listening to the constructive things and attempting to change them in my story. And also, that reply to the person's review itself: that was just something I forgot when I replied the regular way, so I added it later. And actually, the character from the other fandom was not a Mary sue. She was just pointing out they have some of the same attitude characteristics.

Please don't review again, because I do not need to hear you spew the same crap all over again. Merci.

Not owning anyone still, and once again a few lines are Victor Hugo's.

…......

Chapter 15: June 5th, 1832: Part Two: The Blood of a Poet

….................................

Enjolras was the first to recover after the shots rang out, and it was a good thing, too, for a few seconds later Courfeyrac's knees gave out. Enjolras caught him just as he was about to hit the ground, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. Enjolras held him up, his shocked gaze meeting that of Combeferre.

"They've killed them." Combeferre exclaimed in horror.

"Oh God..." Feuilly breather, slumping into a nearby chair. Bossuet, who had been outside, rushed in and glanced around, then sighed with relief.

"Thank goodness, you're all here! I thought..." he trailed off, fixing a trembling smile on his face. "They're all looking for you, Enjolras. No one knows what to do without their leader, and Marius isn't being much help."

Enjolras nodded silently, and was about to let go of Courfeyrac when a muted whisper reached his ears.

"They killed her. Those Bastards shot her. Those God damned bastards-"

"Hush, it's okay..." Enjolras said lamely, but Courfeyrac shook his head numbly.

"No, it's not okay, not any more...oh God..." He moaned, slumping in his blonde friend's grip.

"I saw her..." Feuilly said hauntingly. "Before she fell. Sh-she saved Jehan a few times, but they were both attacked, and they...fell...and..."

He couldn't finish, and his coat hem wrinkled as he gripped it with trembling hands.

"She was here the entire time..." Courfeyrac realized. "Right here, and we never noticed. I should have seen her, should have protected her, should have-"

"It's not your fault, Courfeyrac!" Enjolras sighed. "There is nothing any of us could have done."

"I should have been more thorough, I should have convinced her to stay behind, I should have-"

"Enough! Nicolas, please!" Enjolras sighed again. "There is a lot you perhaps should have done, but there's nothing you can do now. I'm going back out there." He deposited Courfeyrac in another chair, and he was followed out by most of the others except Combeferre, who sat silently in one of the other chairs. There was a reigning silence before Courfeyrac finally whispered.

"I hate this. I hate...sitting her, watching once again as the ones I love die. And I hate being so...so helpless!"

"What do you mean, Courfeyrac?"

Courfeyrac hesitated he just laughed hollowly.

"What does it matter now?" he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I-my brother....when he died, I-I was with him."

Combeferre raised his eyebrows, but didn't speak, not wanting to interrupt his friend. Courfeyrac took a deep breath and continued slowly.

"He was taking me with him to meet some of his friends. It was when I had been sent to visit him over the summer so that my parents could leave Paris for the summer. They didn't want me to come....anyway, so we headed down town, when we were...jumped, by a street gang." He paused, turning his gaze to the floor. "Gautier, he-he would have gotten away, if he didn't have me to worry about. But they k-killed him. And-and even as he lay dying, all he could s-say was that he was glad that I w-wasn't hurt. That all he-he cared about."

And then he buried his head in his hands, sobbing quietly. Combeferre stood up and walked over quietly.

"It wasn't your fault, Courfeyrac. You are really just lucky that you're alive, that they didn't kill you as well."

"They should have." Courfeyrac said miserably.

"Don't say such a thing!" Combeferre said anxiously. "Why haven't you said anything before, Courfeyrac?"

"I was scared..." Courfeyrac whispered. "I told everyone that he left me back at the apartment. Even my p-parents don't know the whole truth. _Maman_...she thought that when I had nightmares, that it was just my imagination...that I was imagining this guilt."

"Oh Courfeyrac..." Combeferre sighed. "I-I don't know what to say."

And he hugged his friends trembling shoulders. Courfeyrac just looked up at him, smiling sombrely.

"You don't have to."

…........................................

Enjolras sat outside on the barricade, standing next to Joly, who was one of the few guarding the redoubt opening. He had been trying to keep calm and collected as he always did, but he had to admit to being shaken by what had happened to Prouvaire and Kiera. Just as he was about to wander away to check on another part of the barricade, he heard scuffling noises from the gap. He crept over quietly.

"Who goes there?" he called out, raising his carbine,. A small, pained cry replied.

"Wait, don't shoot, please, it's me!"

He recognized the voice in an instant, and with a faint gasp dropped his gun and ran to help.

…............................

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were still sitting in the café, Courfeyrac not quite ready to face everyone. So that sat chatting idly, over small and insignificant things, then the conversation turned to the one topic neither really wanted to talk about.

"How could she have been so stupid?" Courfeyrac muttered sadly. "Why did she have to come in the first place?"

"Kiera only wanted to help us." Combeferre said sympathetically. "That's the reason she wanted to come."

"She should have been the one that was helped." Courfeyrac mumbled. "We should have protected her."

"We didn't see her." Combeferre reminded him, then added. "Do you think Kiera would want to see you sitting around and moping over her?"

"I...I don't know, 'Ferre...."

"I think Kiera would agree with Combeferre...." A strained voice said from the doorway. Both men turned, and it was a good thing that Courfeyrac had been sitting in a chair. As it was, he nearly fell out of it in shock.

"K-Kiera?" He asked, trembling, and the young woman nodded, smiling wearily as she leaned on the doorframe.

"Bonjour, Courfeyrac."

He ran/stumbled over, touching her face as if he couldn't believe she was real. After confirming that it was indeed her, he kissed her softly, but as if her was afraid she would disappear. Combeferre turned away respectively as Courfeyrac then grabbed her in a crushing hug.

"I-I thought you were gone." He sobbed quietly. When he noticed her wince, however, her held her out at arm's length.

"What's wrong? Oh God, are you hurt?"

Kiera nodded silently.

"It's just my arm....I think one of the bullets must have hit me..."

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly as Combeferre walked over to help. "Is it bad?" Courfeyrac asked him, but his friend shook his head, helping Kiera to sit down as he examined her arm.

"It should be fine; she's lucky that she only took one in the arm."

"Monsieur Prouvaire pushed me down" she whispered mournfully. "Right before they shot. TH-that's why I screamed, because I knew what he was trying to do."

"How did you make it back, Kiera?" Combeferre asked. She sighed.

"I pretended to be dead. There was so much...blood on me, they presumed me dead." she shuddered, using her unhurt arm to wipe some of the blood off of her face.

"You may take off your coat if you would like, Kiera." Combeferre said kindly. "That may help me as well."

"Okay."

Courfeyrac help Kiera out of her coat, then used the dry part to finish wiping her face clean. His own face was set grimly, and his gaze rarely left the girl before him. Combeferre, meanwhile, cleaned her wound and then wrapped it with lint and bandages. Kiera didn't make a sound, but every once and a while she would wince in pain, yet she never complained. When he finished, she rolled back down the sleeve of her shirt.

"Alright, now that that is done, we should probably go back out and see if Enjolras is in need of anything."

"Perhaps you should just stay in here and rest, Kiera." Courfeyrac said quickly. " I'm sure it will be fine."

"No thank you." Kiera replied, pushing herself up from the chair slowly and walking outside. She heard her friend's sigh as they followed her out. However, they nearly ran into her as she halted suddenly, staring at something that lay close to the alley wall.

"Eponine..." She whispered, recognizing the girl she had met earlier that day. Courfeyrac touched her arm gently and they walked onward. When they got over to the barricade itself, they saw Feuilly, standing as if waiting for them. His hazel eyes widened as Kiera walked up.

"So it's true...you really are..."

"Alive?" Kiera smiled wearily. "Either that or a very bad impression of dead."

She blinked in surprise as he hugged her tightly. However, she hugged back as she felt his body trembling.

"I'm sorry!" he told her. "I saw you, I did, a few minutes before the both of you fell off the barricade. I should have told someone right away, or done something, I'm so sorry!"

"How is any of this your fault, Feuilly?" She asked kindly. "There was nothing you could have done. Any of you." She added, with a pointed glance at Courfeyrac. She turned to address Feuilly once again.

"How...how many have we lost, of our original group?"

"Only Bahorel and...and Jehan." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "All the rest are fine."

"Oh..." Kiera whispered, her mind flashing back to Bahorel, stabbed only a few feet away, and of Prouvaire, his worry, the flash of guns, the blood, the....

"Kiera? Kiera!"

Courfeyrac held her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes, his own grey filled with concern. She blinked, and it was only then that she realized that she had completely spaced out.

"Are you alright?" Courfeyrac asked worriedly, and she nodded numbly, to which he growled in exasperation.

"No, no you're not! Nothing is fine...this isn't the Kiera I know!" He whispered "The Kiera I know would get angry, she wouldn't just sit here and mope, dammit, she'd be strong!"

"But I'm not strong!" Kiera cried, shying away from her friends, clutching her hand to her chest. "I'm not...I can't do this..." She sobbed, leaning back against the wall of the building. "I can't do this anymore..."

"Kiera..." Courfeyrac stepped forward, but Kiera stopped him with a shake of her head..

"No...no..." She moaned, her shoulders slumping. "I can't...I can't continue this. I can't continue pre-pretending that I do-don't feel this pain, this....I can't handle this, se-seeing all of you d-die, just like m-my family and friends from before....m-my sister...sh-she got shot, j-just like Monsieur P-P-Prouvaire..." She wept. "And I s-saw it, she was right beside me....just like....just like....."

Courfeyrac ignored her this time and stepped forward, grabbing her into his strong arms.

"Shh....don't worry, Kiera, I'm here, I'll protect you..."

"I know..." Kiera said hoarsely, grabbing onto his jacket and burying her face into it as the others seemingly melted away. "But you won't be here long, will you? I-I'll have to watch you d-die, th-the same way I watched them...." and she began crying once again. He held her, knowing in his mind that she was right, and suddenly felt guilty.

"I'm sorry, Kiera, but....it's not as if I can just walk away and leave all the others behind."

"I know..." Kiera whispered. "All I can hope for now is that I get killed before any more of you do."

"No, Kiera!" He cried, holding her away from him and staring into her eyes sternly. "Don't say such a thing! I want you to live, Kiera! And if....Kiera, I don't want to see someone else I love die in my arms, dammit!"

Kiera stared at him in confusion, and in the height of the moment he confessed everything he had kept secret. Kiera didn't interrupt the entire time he spoke, even when he eventually let her go. When he finished, though, she did grasp her hands around his, knowing that there was nothing that really needed to be said.

.............................

Later, Kiera sat on watch, sitting herself on the lower half of the barricade this time. She sat at Courfeyrac's feet, he head nearly resting upon them as she stared through one of the strategic gaps in the paving stones. Many of the men were chatting idly, as if they were sitting in the café on any normal day.

"I just realized that I have missed an important exam a few hours ago." Courfeyrac remarked and Joly laughed.

"I as well. I fear we may have been kicked out anyway, especially where Professor Blondeau is concerned."

"Ah, and thus am I glad to have saved myself the embarrassment by leaving earlier." Bossuet said, to which Feuilly replied with a snort.

"Takes a great deal to embarrass one with such insufferable luck as you."

"Indeed it does." Bossuet said with a grin, and everyone laughed as a roof tile fell on his head. Kiera grinned mischievously from her position slightly above his head. When she yawned, Joly asked.

"Didn't you get any sleep last night, Kiera?"

She shook her head, sighing.

"I didn't want Courfeyrac to leave without me" she glared pointedly at the man sitting above her.

"I would say to go inside and take a nap." Combeferre said as he walked up to them. "But there aren't many mattresses or blankets left."

"It's fine." She sighed again. "I don't think I could sleep at the moment anyway."

"I know." Feuilly muttered, tapping his still paint-tinted fingers anxiously on the stones.

"I don't even want to think about it, if I could stop." Kiera sighed mournfully, resting her head one Courfeyrac's feet.

"Well, then, let us talk about something else. Such as the fact that it is once again raining." Bossuet sighed, pulling his coat around himself more tightly. Kiera, who had taken off her own, shivered as the raindrops hit her skin. Courfeyrac took off his overcoat and draped it over her thin shoulders. She nodded her thanks, and then shut her eyes as her friends continued chattering into the deepening night...

...............................


	16. Chapter 16: The Blood of a Gamin

A/N: Hello, me again!

Umm...no lyrics this time, and no real crabbiness to exude upon annoying flamers.....

oh wait! Here's some lyrics from "Unknown soldier" by breaking Benjamin that fit this story specifically (and the next chapter maybe a bit more....)

"Show me what it's like/ to dream in black and white/ so I can leave this world tonight/ holding on too tight/ breathe the breath of life/ so I can leave this world behind."

Also, I have a few Les Mis anime videos on my youtube. check 'em out, 'kay? my username is: ilovemiroku.

I don't own anyone but Kiera. A few lines are still Monsieur Hugo's.

.......................................

Chapter 16: June 6th, 1832: Part one: The Blood of a Gamin

...............................

When Kiera's eyes finally opened, it was to find herself nearly alone on the barricade. She jumped when she realized that the sky was already beginning to lighten. She climbed down to the ground to see most of her friends standing in a group, with Enjolras talking at its centre. There were also a few new recruits, one who she recognized vaguely from a dark night many months before.......

"Monsieur Fauchelevant?" She asked tentatively of the man who sat at the back of the group. He jumped, but his face softened when he saw who it was.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle; have you been doing well?"

"For the most part." Kiera lied smoothly. "And you, Monsieur? How is your daughter?"

She could have sworn that she saw a shadow pass over his face before he replied evenly.

"She is fine."

"That's good." Kiera sighed. "Well, I must go and find my friends. _A __bientôt_."

He nodded in response as she wandered away, searching for Courfeyrac. Every minute that she couldn't find him made her heart well with worry and dread. Finally, she ran into a familiar face.

"Feuilly!" she said in relief. "Have you seen Courfeyrac? I can't find him anywhere!"

"He's fine." The fan maker assured. "He's inside with Enjolras, I believe, taking a stock on what we have left."

"Thank you so much, Feuilly!" She sighed in relief. "I was beginning to think-"

She was cut off by a cry from the barricade and the sound of cocking muskets. She froze in place, face blank, until a touch on her arm startled her out of her reverie.

"Come on." said Courfeyrac darkly, and she followed back toward the barricade. Kiera's hands were white as they clutched her musket, and they shook so much that she couldn't even load it. Courfeyrac, who had once again ended up sitting directly above her, took the gun and wordlessly loaded it for her. Even as they sat the shots rang about them, one coming close enough even to knock off Courfeyrac's hat off his head. Kiera took her musket, trying to steady her hands as she took aim. After the first two rounds of gunfire, however, the guard backed away. She stared in horror as they brought a heavy looking piece of artillery.

"_Merde_...."

The men, however, acted calmly, talking about the gun as if it was a furry little rabbit.

Just as the cannon went off, Gavroche, whom she hadn't even noticed was gone, tumbled back into the barricade. Many of the insurgents gathered around him as a few assessed the damage done by the shot, which turned out to be minimal. Kiera and Courfeyrac were among those crowded around the young gamin.

"Gavroche, what on earth are you doing here?" Courfeyrac demanded, and the young boy stuck his tongue out, replying stubbornly.

"I wouldn't want to miss the show, citizen! Now, where's my musket, I want my musket!"

Sighing, Courfeyrac ordered it be given to him, to which Kiera glared at him.

"Why are we giving the gamin a musket?"

"And why did they give _you _one, Mademoiselle Fussbudget." Gavroche retorted snidely, darting away. Courfeyrac sighed as the two of them went to rejoin their friends on the barricade. Some men were shooting her confused glances, and she knew that it was because she was the last woman left on the barricade. But, of course, there was no way she was leaving. She sat, leaning on her musket as she stared intently through the gap in the barricade. Suddenly, she noticed a small group of soldiers bringing out another cannon. She tugged on the sleeve of Enjolras, who sat just to her right. He saw immediately what she had, and yelled.

"Heads down, keep close to the wall; everyone, on your knees along the barricade!"

Everyone who hadn't returned quickly rushed back to their positions, crouching low as the grapeshot shot into the barricade. The men of the barricade relaxed for a moment after they realized it hadn't had much effect, but there were a few who had gotten off and stood by the redoubt opening.

"It needs to be fortified." Combeferre mused. "So that no more shots can go through."

"WE could use a mattress." Courfeyrac suggested. "That might work."

But Joly shook his head.

"All of ours are being used; there are no extras."

"There is one hanging over there."

Everyone turned to see where Kiera pointed, on the street on the opposite side of the barricade.

"I saw it when I was taken prisoner. We may be able to shoot it down from here and drag it over."

"It would take a very sharp shooter." Enjolras mused. M. Fauchelevant, who had been listening, asked.

"May I see your carbine, Monsieur?"

Enjolras handed it to the old man wordlessly, and M. Fauchelevant cocked it and, aiming carefully, shot both of the tethers that had held the mattress to the side of the building. Some of the men cheered, but Combeferre said.

"Now who's going to go and get it? It fell on the wrong side."

Silently, M. Fauchelevant and Kiera both clambered over and crept stealthily over to the mattress. After they had tugged it over, however, Kiera collapsed into Courfeyrac's arms, her face slightly green. When he asked what was wrong, she simply whispered.

"Jehan..."

And he understood immediately, hugging her to him comfortingly. Feuilly, who had been nearby, also looked a bit pale. Courfeyrac wondered for a second, then remember how close Feuilly had been to their young poet friend.

..........................

Every now and then, the guard would try again to attack. Les Amis shouted witty remarks out at them every time, trying to stay in good humour. Courfeyrac, having been so stressed the past few months, was having a hay day.

"Your tiring your lungs out, my poor brute. I'm sorry for you, you're wasting your energy."  
"That's not thunder, no; it's a cough!"

Many of the men laughed, but Kiera didn't even crack a smile. She played with a curl of her hair, eyes glazed over as she mulled on the past. She imagined her father, like Enjolras, the leader with the same pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes. And her mother who stood always at his side, her red hair flying in the wind and a smiling green eyes twinkling as she stared at her daughter...and her beautiful sister Pearl, standing beside her, almost a carbon copy of their father. And then there was Kiera herself, always the odd one out, the only one who never wanted to revolt against-

"Kiera?" Feuilly waved his hand in front of her face. Blinking, she shook the thoughts out of her head.

"I'm fine." She muttered, sighing. "I was just...thinking."

"I know." Feuilly whispered, sitting himself next to her. Then, after a few minutes of silence, he asked quietly.

"Was it..bad? When he died?"

Kiera, who knew automatically who her friend was talking about, shook her head sadly.

"I don't think do. He seemed....relieved, in a way. He was only worried for me."

"He was always so worried about what happened to others." Feuilly smiled sadly. "He is-was, a very kind person."

"Not unlike you, my dear fan-making friend." Courfeyrac said, having been listening in, and Feuilly blushed slightly. But after that, none of them said anything; rather, they decided to listen in on the conversations of the men around them. Occasionally, the entire group would have to shoot off a volley to the other side. After one such instance, Bossuet remarked.

"This works well. Success!"  
"Quarter of an hour more of this success and there won't be more than ten cartridges on the barricade."

Both Kiera and Gavroche overheard Enjolras' remark, but where Kiera hesitated, the young gamin leapt forward. It was Courfeyrac who noticed first as the gamin crept along under the line of fire.

"Hoy, Gavroche, what do you think you're doing?"

"Citizen." Gavroche replied, grabbing a box of cartridges and tossing it in the basket he carried. "I'm filling my basket."

Kiera, who had crept out close out the redoubt carefully, called out.

"Don't you hear that grapeshot, Gavroche? Come back, it isn't safe!"

"In a bit." Gavroche replied, carrying on. Courfeyrac crept down as well, but no one else dared move or make a sound lest they attract any attention to the young child. He had been creeping further and further out, and Kiera had also been moving out onto the front of the barricade. Courfeyrac, however, stayed on the other side, torn between his protectiveness of Kiera and his own fear. He was joined a few seconds later by an equally pale-faced and anxious Marius. Both of their jaws dropped when they heard the young gamin start to sing, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to be running and dodging bullets.

The entire barricade seemingly shuddered as the first shot hit the young boy. Kiera tried to make herself go forward to save him, but somehow her body wouldn't obey her. It was only after the second shot that she could move at all, but it was too late. Courfeyrac and Marius both dashed out after her as she stooped over the gamin, only to find that he was dead. Courfeyrac pulled her up and they ran back to their side, Kiera bearing the sad burden of the child.

..............................

Kiera wouldn't speak to anyone after they had returned, and eventually she seemed to just disappear. Concerned, Courfeyrac went in search of her, and upon hearing her voice crept closer to the door of Corinth. But he paused at the sound of his name.

"...and why wouldn't you tell Courfeyrac?"

"He would just worry." Kiera replied to Joly, who had spoken, her voice sounding somewhat strained.

"But this could have been a lot worse, Kiera. You're lucky that I caught it when I did."

"I'll be fine." Kiera replied, and this time pain most definitely laced her voice. "Ouch!"

"I'm sorry, but you know I must clean it."

"Didn't have to poke it so hard..." Kiera groaned. "Stupid bullets."

"You needn't have gone out there, Kiera." Joly said worriedly. "There was nothing you could have done."

"But what if there was? What if...what if it was me out there, Joly? It0it could have been me-should have been me."

"Don't say that-"

"He had his whole life ahead of him, Joly! He was only twelve, he..." She trailed off, then whispered so that Courfeyrac had to strain to hear. "He's not expendable."

"Neither are you, Kiera; think of Courfeyrac. Would you do that to him?"

"He would do it to me." Kiera cried. "You've heard him; he just doesn't want to see anyone else die."

"He has no control over that, Kiera." the hypochondriac told her. "I know him; he won't do anything."

"Doesn't mean he can't find a way." Kiera snapped. "I-I don't want to see him die, Joly. Him, or Jehan, or Gavroche...dammit, I don't want to see any of this!"

"It was your choice, Kiera!" Joly seemed hysterical, and Courfeyrac knew that he wasn't reacting to the pressure very well. "You chose to come here! HE even locked you in the bloody apartment, and you still came!"

"Because I'm trying to protect him!" Kiera yelled, then lowered her voice. "I need to protect him; I don't want to lose him so fast, Joly."

"You might want to take a reality check, Kiera, because you pretty much already have." There was the sound of ripping fabric. "There. Remember, next time you might not be so lucky."

Courfeyrac clipped away at the sound of footsteps. His pulse was racing and he held tightly onto his musket, hands pale and trembling. He didn't want to think about what he had just overheard. But it was all he could think about as he climbed back to his place. A minute or so later Joly joined them, looking slightly agitated as he sat at his spot next to Bossuet, but no one asked why. Courfeyrac kept his head bowed, as if he thought Joly would read something in his eyes. Maybe he could, for Courfeyrac could feel his gaze upon him as they sat. He didn't dare look up until Kiera herself rejoined them. She walked slowly, her arm subconsciously around her middle, where Courfeyrac suspected she had been shot. She smiled half-heartedly at him as she lowered herself down on the barricade. He stared at her mildly.

"Where were you?"

"Oh, j-just in the café..." She muttered, not meeting his gaze as she spoke.

"Really..." He said, and she turned her head down in shame.

"_Oui_...."

...................

Kiera had once again wandered off into the café, this time with Enjolras, Bossuet, and Feuilly. All three men were surprisingly calm, or at least very good at faking it. Kiera tried, but her arm and side ached terribly. The side was courtesy of one of the same soldiers she remembered trying to shoot her before, when she had been taken prisoner. It was hard to conceal as she carried to body of the gamin back to her friends, and even harder as Courfeyrac attempted to keep her by his side at all times. When she had finally nearly collapsed in the alley, Joly caught her and brought her inside to get cleaned up. Even after he had gotten mad at her, he still kept his promise to not say anything to Courfeyrac.

Enjolras, who was taking a tally of the supplies they had left, kept glaring at the prisoner Kiera hadn't yet noticed. It was the inspector, the one she'd always assumed had it in for her; Javert.

"Oh, it's you." The man grumbled as she walked over. She nodded curtly.

"Seems the tide has turned, Monsieur Inspector."

"So it would seem."

Enjolras, who was sitting and cleaning his carbine, was talking to M. Fauchelevant, whom Kiera hadn't even noticed entering the room. All Kiera caught was;

"To blow out that man's brains myself."

And Enjolras responded while reloading his gun.

"No objection."

Kiera blinked, her mind quickly registering what the old man was doing. Though she wouldn't say she would be sad to see him die, it just didn't feel...right. But when Javert looked up and saw who the man was, he just mumbled.

"Of course."

Kiera watched as M. Fauchelevant led the prisoner out over by the little barricade. Silently, she moved to follow. In being careful, however, she missed most of the two men's conversation, the first thing she heard being;

"You are free."

She froze, creeping closer until she could see both of the men clearly. The ropes on Javert had been cut, and the pistol that M. Fauchelevant had brought with him lay on the ground untouched. Javert sat speechless, so the other man continued.

"I do not expect to leave this. However, if I should. you will find me at Number Seven, Rue de l'Homme-armé, under the name of Fauchelevant."

Kiera held her breath against a gasp. Javert, on the other hand, simply growled.

"Take care...."

"Go on.." M. Fauchelevant (or whatever his real name was) said as the inspector paused.

"Number Seven?"

"Number Seven." Fauchelevant nodded. Javert turned as if to go, then turned again.

"You irritate me; kill me instead."

"Go away." Fauchelevant replied, and this time Javert actually obeyed. The last thing Kiera saw before she herself retreated was the old man pointing the gun in the air. Then she heard the shot, and only a few seconds after she emerged onto the barricade, he too came back and said shortly.

"Done."

........................

"Where were you this time?" Courfeyrac asked after she had settled back into her place. She didn't reply, just shrugged, and he sighed in annoyance.

"Stop acting like this, Kiera; I'm serious, you're worrying me."

"I'm not dead, am I?" She snapped moodily. "Just stop worrying."

"This is why I worry, Kiera." He said in concern. "I know you're upset about something."

"Oh, I wonder why." She muttered sarcastically. "Just leave me alone."

"But-"

They were cut off by a sound from the other side of the barricade, and the sound of many feet marching. Kiera paled as she watched the guard approach, each step sounding the approach of their doom...

.........................


	17. Chapter 17: The Blood of Je t'aime

A/N: Okay.....so, my computer was stupid and deleted all my story files, so i'm going to have to retype this chapter, which would have been up two days ago...yeah.....

oh! some lyrics...."I did it all for you, and all for nothing!"

Basically is the entire emotion for this chapter......

"And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand, Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love, without, love gone wrong; lifeless words carry on, But I know, all I know's that the end's beginning, who I am from the start, take me home to my heart, Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent, (silent) all this time (onto these tears), spent in vain; wasted years wasted gain (i am crying), All is lost but hope remains and this war's not over (I'm dying tonight),There's a light, there's a sun, taking all these shattered ones, To the place we belong, and his love will conquer all"

Oh, and also, though this is the final chapter of the insurrection, there is still four more chapters in the story itself.

um, yeah...well, onward re-type!

......................................

Chapter 17: June 6th, 1832: Part Two: The Blood of _Je __t'aime_(or The End)

.............................

The gunshots rang through the air, every now and then accompanied by a scream or shriek of pain. Thankfully, most of their friends were still alive, but Kiera had watched in horror as both Joly and Bossuet died, and though her heart and gut both wrenched terribly, she was forced to focus on trying to keep herself alive. She had so far avoided any more serious injury, but her previous injuries had been hurting more and more as the day dragged on. So badly at times, that she felt herself wanting to just lie down right there and give up, to give up the will to live that she felt she had lost many hours ago. But, of course, she didn't, couldn't. Every now and then she would hear Courfeyrac cursing loudly at some new development, but thus far was unhurt. Feuilly beside them had only one cut above his eye, but other than that was fine. She had lost sight of the others ages ago, but she prayed that they too were unharmed. Kiera didn't know how much more she could handle, the previous losses and stress already leaving her completely drained and numb, so any more would just-

"Feuilly!" Courfeyrac cried from above her, and she turned just in time to see her friend falling to the ground. Without a second thought, she leapt after him, rushing to his side.

"Feuilly? Feuilly!"

The man moaned, holding a hand over his chest where blood blossomed from a fresh bullet wound. Kiera gasped, leaning in to get a closer look, but Feuilly just brushed her away, shaking his head limply.

"There's nothing you can do, Kiera..." he whispered, and it was Kiera's turn to shake her head as tears sprang to her eyes.

"N-no, there has to be s-something, anything!"

"I'm sorry, Kiera...." he whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry to do this to you...."

"Don't apologise." Kiera wept. "Please, Feuilly, you-you can't die!"

"Don't cry..." He muttered, his wavering hand brushing off one of the many tears that trailed down her cheeks.

"I-I'll try..." She hiccupped, and, seeing his eyes glazing over, whispered. "Thank you, Feuilly. Thank you for e-everything."

"No...thank _you_, Kiera..." His voice wavered before finally giving out completely, and Kiera held his body close to her as she wept, tears full of regret, and of loss.

"I'm sorry." She sobbed. "I'm sorry, Feuilly....."

...........................

The battle raged on, and the strength of the barricade was failing, having lost many of its leaders. Courfeyrac and Kiera had now been joined by Combeferre, pale-faced and morose. Every now and then, they would glance at each other, each one gauging the others' position and status. There were maybe fifteen men left guarding the barricade, and some had been left weaponless, including Kiera, who used her empty musket as a club when attacked. But all of them were better off than Marius, half above the barricade, hacking at everything and anything in his reach, himself looking like he was dipped in red ink from the blood. But no one dared to help him, preoccupied with keeping themselves safe. Kiera was herself now cut in many places, and trying desperately to stay on her feet, but she was weary, and hurt in many different ways. There were tear track down her grimy cheeks, and her normally fiery Green eyes were dull and bloodshot from crying. She could feel the blood that now covered her, of the poet, the gamin, the fan maker....

........................

The afternoon was in full swing, and it was then that the tide of the battle began to turn in an even worse direction. Kiera could feel it in the air, could fell the strength and the will of the barricade and it's fighters beginning to crumble. More men were dying, and their side was weakening....it was only a matter of time before it collapsed completely.......

......................

The barricade fell grandly, and then there was a rush of national guard, obliterating everything and anyone in their path. Kiera was trying to protect herself and Courfeyrac, but it mostly ended up being the other way around, with him protecting her. She figured it was because he could see the pain she felt, the way it was etched on her face because she could no longer hide it. She wasn't even paying attention when she heard the cry from in front of her, and her heart filled with dread as she looked up to face her greatest fear. Courfeyrac was still standing, to her relief, but then she noticed him wobbling and stooped to catch him as he fell, crying out softly as he hit her arm. She held him up, seeing in horror the wound in his stomach from the gun.

"No..." She sobbed in disbelief. "No!"

"Hush." He whispered softly, painfully. "Hush, Kiera, it's going to be alright..."

"No, no, Courfeyrac, no it's not! You can't do this." She choked. "You can't leave me!"

"I will never truly leave you, Kiera." He said, trying to make himself sound stronger for her. "Kiera, as long as you don't forget me, I will always be with you, I will never leave you."

"No, you can't, you can't talk like this!" She cried. "No, no, no, no...." She moaned, her trembling white hands clutching at his shirt.

"Kiera....Kiera, listen to me..."

"No, no, no, no...."

"Kiera!" He grabbed desperately at her shirt. "Kiera, please, just listen to me...."

Kiera bit her trembling lip to silence herself, but every now and then a hysterical whimper still sounded. Courfeyrac, his voice small and strained, told her.

"I'm sorry...I tried to...to protect you..."

"You didn't have to." Kiera whispered, her voice shaking. "So...so it's all my fault that you die, isn't it....."

"No..." he said gently. "No, it isn't...Kiera..." he reached slowly into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Here...take...this..."

"What is it?"

"Just take it...and read it...please..."

Kiera's eyes blurred, so badly that it was nearly impossible to see.

"I...okay. Okay, Courfeyrac, I will..."

"_Merci_...Kiera..." He was struggling to speak, and she had to lean in to hear his final words.

"_Je...t'aime..."_

She broke down weeping, the paper crumpled, forgotten, in her fist as her body wracked with painful sobs. She had cried for what seemed like hours when she felt someone clutching at her shoulder. She looked up blearily to see that it was Combeferre, his face creased in sorrow, and the hand on her shoulder gripping it tightly. Enjolras stood a ways behind him, his face a blank mask, yet his blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"Come on, Kiera, Combeferre." He said. "Me must get everyone inside."

"No..." Kiera groaned. "No, I won't leave, I won't leave him..."

"Kiera, you must;" Combeferre glanced back toward the barricade. "We cannot hold much longer out here."

"No, no, I can't..." She shook her head mournfully, and Combeferre, obviously at his wits end from stress, completely snapped.

"Why are you doing this to him, Kiera? Do you-Do you think Courfeyrac would want you to die, after he risked and lost his own life to save you?!"

"What else can I do?" Kiera snapped back, tears glinting in her dull eyes. "He-I can't..." She slumped, defeated. Enjolras stayed silent, but he knew that he felt the same way as Combeferre, he felt the same sort of responsibility to their dead friend, to take care of Kiera as he had wanted to. He watched silently as Combeferre helped Kiera to her feet, leading her toward the shop at as quick a pace as he could manage, with her leaning on him so heavily. When they had gotten most of the men inside, Enjolras barred the door. Kiera noticed vaguely that Marius had not followed them in, as Combeferre led her to the second floor. He set her down in the darkest corner, and then pleaded.

"Stay here, Kiera, and for God's sake, no matter what happens, stay hidden!"

Kiera nodded numbly, burying her head into her unhurt arm as she sat curled in the dark corner. Combeferre smiled at her one last time before leaving the room. A few minutes later she heard the crashes and bang of gun from downstairs, which she tried desperately to block out. She felt like some sort of broken doll, once grand, but now with nothing left to lose, no emotions anymore.

"Kiera? Is that you?"

She looked up to see Grantaire, whom she hadn't noticed in the opposite end of the room, now walking slowly toward her. She nodded.

"Wh-what happened? I've only seen the last few minutes..."

"Their gone....." Kiera whispered hauntingly. "Gone, gone, gone..." She trailed off hysterically, and the drunkard asked her.

"Everyone?"

"I-I don't know if anyone still is, b-but...Enjolras and Combeferre were both alive, last-last I saw....."

"I see...." Grantaire said grimly, standing up and turning to go. But before he left, he turned one last time to look at her. "Kiera?"

Kiera, who had re-buried her head in her arms, looked up once again at the sound of her name.

"_O- oui_?"

"I....Thank you, Kiera."

"Thank me? For what?"

The man smiled lop-sidedly. "For treating me as an equal." Kiera watched him as he turned and walked down the stairs, and feeling, despite everything, a sad smile find its way to her face.

........

It wasn't too long before Kiera heard the guard come trooping up the stairs and into the room. She kept as still and silent as was possible, but still a soldier came over, his gun pointed directly at her chest.

"Get up." The young man snapped at her. But when she tried to sit up, he noticed the blood that seemed to cover her, and lowered his gun. "You look practically dead already."

"Just shoot me." Kiera said hollowly, but the young soldier just shook his head.

"I won't shoot a lady, 'specially a wounded one. B-but I won't help you either!" He added, then turned and walked away, leaving Kiera wallowing in her misery. It was only when she reached out her hand to stop him that she noticed the piece of paper that fluttered to the floor. It was the note Courfeyrac had given her earlier. She grabbed it and scooted painfully over closer to the window so that she had better light to read it by.

"Dear Kiera,

I only have a few minutes to spare as I write this, although I fear that I may never to get a chance to give it to you, what with you getting hurt again. I know that it is entirely possible and indeed quite probable that neither of us shall make it out of this alive. But if you do by some miracle survive, would you do me a favour and, back at the apartment, there is something for you in the top drawer of my bureau.

Alas, I fear our time is cut drastically and painfully short, and so I must write quickly the one thing I wish to say before I lose the chance.

Kiera, _je t'aime, je t'aime beaucoup_,

N.J. Courfeyrac"

She traced his signature with a shaking finger before crumpling the note in her fist. Suddenly, she heard the noise of cocking muskets from in front of her, and looked up to see that two soldiers, obviously not having seen their companion before, their guns pointed directly at her heart. She smiled wanly, raising her gaze to the ceiling as she whispered.

"_J'ai t'aimé aussi_, Courfeyrac...I loved you too...."

Then the shots rang out, and Kiera slipped finally into the welcoming darkness.

..........................


	18. Chapter 18: How were we supposed to know

A/N: Hello! I'm not going to say much, just because I'm not sure what there is to say about this chapter.

well....except some lyrics which will make sense by the end of the chapter.....

"Why, my God, Have you abandoned me, In my sobriety? Behind the old facade, I'm your bewildered child, So take me cross the river wide"

I do not own anybody.

………………….

Chapter 18: How were we supposed to know? (Or Survivor's Guilt)

……………………………..

On October 19th, more than four months after those two days of Hell, Marius Pontmercy received a letter while at his grandfather's house. It was from Cosette's father. A man e had once only known as M. Leblanc. All it said was that next week, the old man would be taking him for a small trip into the city. Quite confused, Marius asked Cosette about it the next time she came over to visit him.

"Oh." She smiled, clasping his hands. "There's just something Papa would like to show you."

"Yes, _mon amour_, but what?"

"It's a surprise."

Was all Cosette replied.

………………….

The very next Monday, Cosette helped Marius into a fiacre, and then waved the two men off as they began the long ride across town. They were driving along streets that he had only seen a couple of times in his life, one being when Kiera had been attacked that night on the streets….

He still felt a pang in his heart at the memory of the girl. At first he refused to believe it, that all of them could actually be gone, expecting Kiera and Courfeyrac to just wander on in one of these days…ah, but that was ridiculous, he knew that now. He sighed, leaning back in the seat. A few minutes later, however, he jerked up as the carriage ground to a halt, directly in front of-

"The hospital? Why-why on earth are we stopping here?"

"You will see." M. Fauchelevant replied cryptically as he helped the injured man down to the ground. When they entered the building, one of the nuns who nursed there appeared to recognize the old man and smiled.

"Have you come to see them again, Monsieur? Although I'm afraid the boy isn't here this afternoon."

"Boy…?" Marius echoed curiously, but the old man just nodded to the nun and then led Marius down a hallway and stopped in front of a door. He didn't what to expect as the old man knocked gently, and a muffled and unintelligible voice replied. And then he was being pushed forward into the room, only to see….

He froze, and M. Fauchelevant put a hand on his arm in case he fell over from the shock of what he was seeing. Marius stumbled over to the bed, and the person laying on it groaned at the touch of his hand and blinked open dark green eyes.

"….Marius?"

"I can't believe it…" He whispered, touching her face, his own paling. "…_Kiera_?"

The girl in the bed nodded slightly and struggled to push herself up, and he helped her when he saw the strain on her face. The young woman sighed and smiled faintly.

"Marius Pontmercy….I was sure you were dead!"

"I…me as well, Kiera. Why, I was told that no one made it…"

"That's mostly true…." She said meekly, staring down at her pale hands. "Not counting myself, and then you now, there is but one other…"

"Enjolras?" Marius guessed, but she shook her head.

"Actually, and I was quite surprised as well, but it is actually Grantaire who made it."

"Not too surprising…I suppose he just didn't fight?"

"Oh, actually, he did fight." Kiera laughed dryly. "He woke up just before it all ended. I-I was sure he was dead, when I saw…"

"How did you escape, Kiera?" he asked after a small awkward silence. He regretted it when he saw her face crumple.

"A c-couple of the guards….at first one showed some mercy on me, b-but they just shot me, and then I….passed out. I don't know how long I stayed like that. The first thing I remember after that is somebody leaning over me, and then yelling to someone to grab a stretcher, and then after that…nothing, until a bit over a month ago, when I woke up here."

"Are you saying that you didn't wake up for three whole months?" Marius said, surprised, and Kiera nodded grimly.

"I don't know why myself, but….all I know is that the only reason they didn't give up on me was Grantaire. 'She'll wake up,' he said, 'she won't give up like this.'" She smiled fondly. "He's the only person I've had since I woke up. But be warned, Monsieur Marius; you need to take care-all three of us do."

"Why?"

She gestured toward a newspaper that lay on the side table. He picked it up and read the headline on the front page aloud.

"'Government catches fifteen more associated with June insurrection-due for execution on the morrow.'" He frowned. "That's definitely not good."

Kiera nodded, biting her lip anxiously.

"And what really worries me is that I haven't heard from Grantaire at all for at least two days. I pray that this doesn't mean that he was caught." Her lip trembled.

"Don't worry, Kiera, I'm sure he's fine." It felt like a lie, and he had a horrible feeling that that it probably was. Kiera just sighed.

"I do hope you're right. Well, let's not waste time; we have places to get to."

"Like where?" Marius asked, confused not for the first time that day. Kiera's face just clouded over for a few seconds before she shook her head and replied.

"Just a few places I've been meaning to get to, but haven't yet had the chance."

……………….

The first place they stopped seemed to be just an empty street, hardly significant. Leaning on M. Fauchelevant, as well as a small cane, she got out of the fiacre and made her way down the street. They hobbled over to a place that Marius suddenly recognized….

"_Rue de la Chanvrerie_…" he breathed, and Kiera nodded silently. It was only a matter of minutes before they came to the spot where their barricade had once stood. Kiera froze, looking faint, but M. Fauchelevant just nudged her forward. She trembled as she hobbled over, not speaking, but for once she didn't have to, because for once, her emotions very clear on her face. Marius grabbed her hand reassuringly, and then let her lean back against him.

"As if it had never happened…." She whispered mournfully. Marius just nodded, and the both of them just stared at what seemed like blank space where their lives had changed forever.

……………………..

"Where else do you need to go?" Marius asked once the three of them went back into the fiacre, but neither of his travelling mates answered, predictably. When they approached a church, however, he noticed the attached cemetery, and blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought the government would bury his friends, not after their supposed treason to the king. Kiera, however, seemed simply apathetic, as she had been almost the entire trip. As he helped her get down, however, he noticed her body was shaking. He smiled encouragingly as he and M. Fauchelevant helped her as the old man led them to where they were going….

And there they were: ten graves, each with its own simple marker, though a few seemed a bit more elaborated upon, obviously by the richer parents. Kiera automatically gravitated toward one that said simply:

"Nicolas Jean de Courfeyrac

1810-1832"

"He would have hated that." Kiera muttered, tracing the little 'de' engraved in the stone. Marius smiled somberly.

"Indeed he would."

And then there was silence as they sat staring at the stones before them. Kiera could clearly read the names on all of the closest ones….Jen Prouvaire, Feuilly, Joly, Lesgles, Combeferre, Enjolras….someone had even given one each to Eponine and Gavroche.

"Jehan…" Kiera mumbled, pointing toward Prouvaire's headstone. "He-he would've wanted them to put that on there instead."

"His well-to-do parents probably wouldn't allow that." Marius replied. "Courfeyrac's as well; you me them, you should know."

"I do know…." She sighed. "He was only twenty-two, you realize that?" she turned to the grave next to his: Gautier Louis de Courfeyrac. "He was younger than his brother was too."

"At least they were buried close to each other, especially considering the amount of time that has passed." Marius smiled sadly. "Courfeyrac would have been very happy."

"I bet he's talking to him right now." Kiera smiled up at Marius. "I bet he's happy."

"I bet he is." Marius said in reply, staring up at the sky.

……………..

Marius ended up not seeing Kiera again until two days later. When he walked in, however, he noticed right away that her eyes were red and watery.

"What has happened?" he asked concernedly, and in response she merely handed him a letter, slightly wet in spots by what he knew were tears.

"Dear Kiera,

I am writing to inform you that by the time you receive this (if you ever do; I do doubt these guards), I will very likely have been dead, perhaps for some time. I have been imprisoned; some National Guard member recognized while I was on my home from the hospital Friday. I tell you this, not so that you blame yourself or any idiocy like that, but so that you will be careful and watch yourself when you eventually are sent home. I am truly sorry that I have to leave you like this, Kiera, for you have become one of my dearest friends these past months, ever since I met you. I only wish that you can live your life happily and for a very long time, my dear. Because you deserve it. So don't forget me; don't forget any of us, and never, ever forget what we died for.

-Richard Grantaire"

"Oh my…." Marius breathed, and Kiera just nodded mournfully, more tears building in her eyes.

"Th-the hanging was yesterday morning. I didn't even r-receive this until noon today."

"Dying for a cause he didn't even believe in." Marius said with s sigh, but Kiera just shook her head.

"He did believe, in the end…He…he was the one who had to try to get me to believe these past few weeks. I-I don't even know what to believe anymore…" she mumbled, and Marius just smiled.

"So he did turn out fine, in the end." He shook his head sadly. "If only Enjolras could have seen this."

……………..

A week and a half later, Kiera was back on her feet, needing only her small cane to support herself. She was all ready to be sent home, but there was just one problem….

"I have no place to go." Kiera said one day as she and Marius wandered around the hospital gardens. He scoffed as if the answer was completely obvious.

"But of course, you shall come home with me. My grandfather has a couple of extra rooms in his house that you can use one of, and I am sure he will not mind."

"Are you positive?" Kiera asked hesitantly, and he just smiled.

"I am. Come, we can take you today, if you wish."

Kiera paused, and then smiled wearily at her friend.

"That would be lovely, Marius. _Merci beaucoup_."

"Don't even mention it."

…………….

A few days later found Kiera sitting alone in the parlour in M. Gillenormand's house. She was flipping absently through a book when M. Fauchelevant walked in.

"Oh, beg pardon, Mademoiselle Kiera, I was not aware of your presence."

"It's fine." She sighed, setting her book aside. "I could probably use a distraction."

"Ah." The old man smiled, then took a seat on the couch beside her. "How have you been, Mademoiselle? I feel as if, though I come here every day, I rarely see you."

"I prefer to stay n my room by myself." Kiera replied, playing with a curl of golden hair distractedly. "I just…I guess I just don't feel up to the company these days."

"I could see why you feel that way." The old man said gently, and then they both lapsed into a silence that lasted for a few minutes. Finally, M. Fauchelevant said quietly.

"You were watching us that night, weren't you?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean." Kiera lied, picking her book back up and pretending to read.

"You know exactly what I mean: when I was supposed to execute the inspector, Javert. I know that you followed us."

Kiera merely shrugged, appearing absorbed in her novel, but there was a grim frown on her face. Finally, she sighed, and whispered.

"I did. I-I saw a lot that day, a lot that I maybe shouldn't have seen…." She trailed off, eyes blank as she thought about all she had seen that night, those two days. M. Fauchelevant didn't look angry at all; in fact, he just smiled slightly and said.

"I understand."

……………………….


	19. Chapter 19: Left to Live Through You

A/N: Ah, I'm sorry for all who were disappointed by the 'witch's' survival, but….just trust me here, okay?

And also, this chapter ends up a bit more wordy than dialogue...which kind of annoys me, but it works better with what goes on in the chapter....

Lyrics this time are just sort of general about _les amis_…

"You can't take away my strength  
Fix these broken veins  
There's nothing left to fight (Live free or let me die)  
You can't take away my pride, I won't be denied  
There's nothing left to fight  
Nothing left to fight  
Live free or let me die"

Also, a review reply to supersue:

Obviously she can't marry Grantaire since he's, oh yeah, DEAD! And so is everyone else. So how about you just shut up and, hey, if you don't like the story, YOU DON'T HAVE TO REVIEW JUST TO PISS ME OFF BY SAYING THE SAME BLOODY THINGS AS EVERYONE ELSE! And I swear, you must be the same person that's reviewed before. Either that or you all just sound the same.

Dear God, sometimes you people just....grrr!

.......................

Chapter 19: Left to Live Through You

.....................

A few weeks later, a letter arrived for Kiera. After locking herself in her room to read it, she came back out and immediately sought out Marius.

"Who was the letter from?" he asked her, and she replied with a faux sense of calm.

"Oh, it was just Courfeyrac's parents...they-they wanted to inform me that his apartment building is to be cleared by tomorrow, and if I wanted to go over and take anything I wanted that I was most welcome to drop by today and get it."

"Would you like me to go along with you?" Marius asked kindly, but Kiera shook her head.

"Thank you for offering, but...I would rather go alone, if you don't mind. Besides." She added with a faint smile. "This may give you some well deserved alone time with your fiancée."

"Suit yourself." Marius said, then dug into his coat pocket and handed her a few francs with a smile. "You should go by fiacre; you still shouldn't be on your feet much."

She thanked him, and then ran to her room to get ready to go.

....................

Kiera met the old concierge on her way up, and was given the key to the room. However, she hesitated in front of the door, not quite sure if she truly wanted to go in there. Taking a few deep breaths, she turned the key in the lock, and pushed open the door. She gasped softly as the air rushed out at her face, bombarding her with such a nostalgic scent that she had to grip the doorway to steady herself. It smelled almost as it did over half a year ago, and it looked exactly as it had when she left it. She walked in slowly, assaulted by memories conjured simply by seeing objects in the room....their first meeting in the pouring rain.,...seeing his smiling face the night after she was attacked....him coming to her rescue, like her white knight, when it happened the second time....him laughing, even when everything seemed to go wrong....Kiera clutched onto the nearby bureau for support, her eyes blurring with tears. She stumbled over to his bed and then flopped onto it, burying her head into the dusty pillow and sobbing. She stayed thus for about half an hour before finally sitting up, staring around the room blankly. Suddenly, another image flashed through her mind when she glanced over the bureau, of a crumpled piece of paper read in the sunlight, in the second level of Corinth...She got up and walked over gingerly, taking a few breaths before pulling open the top drawer. At first all she could find were his clothing, but after a bit of rummaging, she found an envelope. She pulled it out, and turned it over to see that her name had been printed on one side, in Courfeyrac's messy writing. She walked back over to his bed, noting the slight heaviness of the letter. At first she could only sit and stare at it, until finally after several minutes, broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

"My Dear Kiera,

By the time you eventually find this, I will most probably be dead. I know that you may hate me for doing this, but my decision was made many years ago, before you even had a chance to enter my life. I never meant to hurt you or, really, anyone else in my actions, and I had never guessed the profound effect your entrance into my life would have. Because it did, Kiera, in ways that nothing has ever done for me before. Alas that it had to be so late for me to realize the truth. Because I love you, Kiera; I love more than anyone, more than life itself, really. All I can hope for is that you are alive to read this when I am gone, and to accept my most sincere and utter devotion for you. I want you to know that I love you, no matter what separates us; I am forever yours, and I always will be. I had already sent a letter to my father when we first heard about Lamarque's possible and inevitable death, to ask for his blessing, but I fear that it has not arrived, and I fear it never may. But even without it, Kiera, I still wish to know:

Will you marry me?

-Forever yours, and with deep sincerity,

Nicolas Jean Courfeyrac."

Kiera was sure her heart just stopped beating, even more so when a small ring clattered out of the envelope as it fell from her limp grip. She picked it up with shaking hands to find that it was a simple silver band, with a small green stone set in intricate swirling designs. She felt tears pouring down her cheeks as her hand clenched around it, motionless. "Forever yours" he had said....but that was impossible, wasn't it? She knew that she would never be able to hug him again, never kiss him again...they could never be truly married, never live a full, happy life, with children, and.....

"Oh, e-excuse me..."

She looked up and froze when she saw someone, so eerily recognizable as Nicolas Courfeyrac that Kiera had to look a second time to spot any difference. One was that the man was obviously younger, although sorrow had given him a more mature look.

"Oh, it's alright." She wiped her face with Courfeyrac's blanket, sighing. "You are Monsieur Courfeyrac, I presume?"

"Ah, y-yes." The young man stammered as he walked forward hesitantly. "My name is Jacques François Courfeyrac, and I am Nicolas' younger brother."

"You left out the particle." Kiera remarked, smiling fondly, and Jacques nodded and smiled back.

"I guess I just picked it up from Nicolas. He never really did like to use it, thought it was too much of a formality, too bourgeois for his taste. Of course, he was forced to use it around my father, but only then."

"Where is your father, speaking of the devil?" The last part was mumbled under her breath, but she was pretty sure he heard it. However, after a brief smile, Jacques frowned.

"He left Paris a few days after the funeral. He...he is in shock, mostly. For even if he never showed it, my father loved Nicolas very much, more than anything...."

"Really." Kiera said disdainfully, and Jacques nodded.

"That was why Papa was so upset when he heard the rumours about Nicolas' affiliations, because he knew the way unrest builds here in the city, and he knew it may eventually have led to fighting. He...hoped, that by disowning my brother, he would repent and forget about it. But he misjudged Nicolas' intentions, and his stubbornness."

Kiera smiled faintly as Jacques began pacing around the room slowly. Finally, he paused, and staring out the window muttered.

"Papa was going to let him marry you. _Maman_ never even had to read the letter, she never had to convince him."

"Oh..." Kiera breathed, twisting the small ring in her hands. Then, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, replied. "He-he didn't think that he would. Courfeyrac, I mean."

"Ah, I believe that for all his little subtleties, he had not wisdom." Jacques laughed sadly. "He never guessed how much we all loved him. I-I mean...I idolized him, I really did. To me, he was the perfect man, the one that I would want to grow up to be."

"If you were so close, then how come he never spoke of you?" Kiera asked, and Jacques sighed again.

"He thought that I was following more of my father's steps, that I was going to be a royalist just as he was. It didn't help that Papa had me sign up for the draft for the National Guard that went around after the insurrection of 1830."

"You-you're in the guard?" Kiera exclaimed.

"Was. Past tense." Jacques sighed once again. "I resigned from my position on June 6th, when I heard the news. I was infuriated by what my old friends had done to those men. Oh, I wasn't in the battle myself." He added when he saw her horrified expression. "I told them something about my mother being sick and having to stay home and take care of her. But I travelled to Paris anyway, in hopes of catching Nicolas, but....I was too late..."

Kiera saw him choking up and squeezed his hand gently, comfortingly.

"Courfeyrac wouldn't have wanted you there. He probably would have sent you away so that you would be safe."

"At least I would have seen him one last time...I...I hadn't seen him for two whole years." Jacques said mournfully. "All I wanted was a second chance, a chance to make it up with him, to tell him...to tell him that I'm sorry..."

"So would I, Monsieur Jacques, so would I..."

......................

"...and I met your brother, you know, Jacques François? He's completely different in personality, but I guess he does look a lot like you..."

Kiera laughed somberly, sitting in front of Courfeyrac's gravestone, curled up with her head leaning on her arms. She was the only one still in the graveyard, and considering it was past midnight that was hardly a surprise, but she had just stopped by on her way home to relieve herself of some stress.

"You know, I think it was completely unfair that you never got to see him again, to make up with him. I am sure that's all Jacques is thinking now."

She sighed, leaning back to stare at the sky.

"I think he was right about your father, now that I think about it. I-I really do think that he loved you a lot. And you...maybe you realized it too. Maybe that's why you never said anything against him, even when you knew he was taking it too far. But it's too late now, isn't it?" She sighed, and then turned to stare at the grave a few to the right. "_Bonjour,_ Monsieur Prouvaire. I-I found your journals." She gestured to the small leather bag that lay beside her. "The ones you wrote, about all of us. Courfeyrac hid them in the bureau, along with your note." She smiled somberly. "I-I'll try and get someone to publish them, like you asked. As a thank you, for all you did for me."

Sighing, she stood up and brushed off her dress. Then she looked up at all of the stones sadly.

"It's sad, that I only know so much about all of you now that you've gone. But...but I won't forget you, okay?" She stared back up at the sky and muttered resolutely. "I will never let anyone forget you."

......................

When Kiera got back to Marius' house, she was surprised to find him still awake and sitting in the parlor. She took off her coat and, folding it over her arm, went to sit beside him.

"_Bon soir_, Marius; what keeps you up so late?"

"_Bon soir_, Kiera." He sighed, albeit somewhat happily.

"My grandfather had finally agreed to let Cosette and I marry. I-Kiera, whatever's the matter?"

Kiera felt tears pouring down her cheeks and swiped at them quickly.

"I-it's nothing...just..." she sighed, tugging the now crumpled letter out of her pocket and handed it to Marius. The young man scanned it, then looked up at her, brown eyes full of pity.

"Kiera, I...I don't know what to say to you..."

"It's fine..." Kiera mumbled, twirling the ring around her finger. "There's nothing we can do to change anything now."

"Still..." Marius frowned, then sighed. "I suppose you're right. _Bon soir_, Kiera."

"_Bon soir_."

...............


	20. Chapter 20: all That I'm Living For

A/N: OMG, I'm back!

Sorry, I had end of the year hell to deal with. but now I'll finish this story!

ok!

I do not own anyone but Kiera, Jacques François, and the other minor made up characters. Also, I think there are a few lines from Victor Hugo's amazing original.

--------------------

Chapter 20: All That I'm Living For (or Not)

----------------------------

Monsieur Gillenormand insisted on getting Kiera fitted for a new dress to wear to the wedding. And, as she was living in his house, on his money, Kiera could hardly refuse. As she stood as still as possible on th e dressmaker's stool, she was reminded of a similar time, just over a year and a half ago. Oh, how she had cursed and muttered at her two friends then. If only she could go back to then, back to when her friends were still alive...

"Alright, Mademoiselle Lynnia, you may step down."

Kiera sighed, stepping down from the small wooden stool . The older man went back into his storage room, but came back only a few minutes later, laden with different fabrics.

"Here are many fabrics you may choose from, Mademoiselle, though I do believe that we should go with something a bit...light, considering the occasion."

Kiera grimaced; she had tended toward blacks and darker blues and greens since she had come back from the hospital. The dressmaker smiled when she sighed.

"I suppose I'll just have to live with it..."

..........................

The wedding was a rather sombre affair, at least to Kiera. It took all of her self-control to keep from bursting into tears, and her mind kept flashing images of what could have been, what may have been the future for Courfeyrac and herself. Marius noticed, so every now and then he would squeeze her hand or smile at her reassuringly, and she would smile back, but they both knew how fake it was. She spent most of the reception sitting miserably in the parlour, trying to avoid people's various inquisitions.

"So, my dear, so you have a husband of your own?"

A kindly old lady sat beside her on the parlour couch. Kiera paled at the question, then shut her eyes briefly and took a deep breath to keep herself from blurting out a rude reply.

"He...He is dead, Madame."

Oh..." The woman patted her clenched hands sympathetically. "I am so sorry, dear."

"It's fine..." Kiera muttered, playing with one of the many ribbons on her pale green dress, silently wishing that everyone would just go away and leave her alone. She only came because she felt like she owed at least that to Marius, for all his kindness since the barricade. But the old woman wasn't done....

"Mademoiselle, I know who you are?"

Kiera froze, then turned to scrutinize the old lady. She had kindly Blue eyes that twinkled as she stared at Kiera, and greying Black hair. Suddenly, Kiera realised...

"You are..."

"Yes. I am the Grandmother of Nicolas Courfeyrac." The Woman confirmed. "I am an old friend of M. Gillenormand, and he invited me to the wedding." she smiled warmly. "My Grandson talked highly of you, Mademoiselle Lynnia."

"Please, just call me Kiera". the young woman said, twirling a golden curl around her finger absently as Madame Courfeyrac continued.

"So like my Nicolas, you are...ah, I do miss him terribly." she sighed. "He always used to come by my place whenever he and my son had fought."

"Did that happen...often?" Kiera asked, then added quickly. "Not that I mean to pry, Madame, I was just wondering..."

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, sweetheart." Madame Courfeyrac sighed again. "Yes, I suppose it did happen fairly often. You see, after dear Gautier's death, my son became overprotective of his other sons. Nicolas especially, to the point of over restraint. And Nicolas, of course, being who he was, wanted more freedom."

"So he'd always been fighting to be free." Kiera murmured, then sighed. "And no one ever guessed how he really felt inside..."

"He was an anomaly," His Grandmother agreed. "But of two things there were certain: his loyalty to his friends, and his love for you."

......................

Not long after Madame Courfeyrac left, Kiera excused herself from the party. Even as she was leaving, however, she noticed that she was not alone in her train of thought.

"_Bon Soir_, Monsieur Fauchelevant."

The older man started, but when he saw who it was, he smiled faintly.

"Ah, _bon soir_, Mademoiselle; and where are you headed."

"Out." She replied simply, then sighed wearily. "I just don't think I can stand being around here much longer."

"Undoubtedly, this would not be a very happy occasion for you." The old man smiled sadly. "I will be seeing you later then?"

Kiera nodded, then scuttled up the stairs. A few minutes later, she was out the door, heading down the darkening streets.

...........................

"This could have been us, you know?"

Kiera sighed mournfully as she sat in front of Courfeyrac's headstone. She twirled the silver ring on her finger absentmindedly.

"I am happy for him, though. I mean, it's not like he doesn't deserve to be happy. He does deserve to have some happiness. As for me...I guess I just don't."

She sighed again, resting her head on her arms. The coat she wore had been his, which she had taken back at the apartment. She breathed in deeply.

"Maybe you, at least, can be happier this way. I mean, you are with everyone else still, and I suppose you don't have to worry about anything anymore. Now there's just..me. Well, and Marius, but like I said, he has his happiness now..."

"Kiera?"

She jumped, then saw that it was only..

"Monsieur Jacques, how...how lovely to see you."

"So, I see you come here as well?" He sighed. "I wonder sometimes, if they can really hear what we say, you know? Sometimes...I think they really can."

"Me too, I suppose." Kiera said as he helped her up. As she brushed off her pale green dress, she added. "Anyway, I suppose it does make me feel a lot better to have someone to talk to."

"Indeed..." Jacques muttered, then he sighed again. "Well, I should probably inform you that I plan to leave for Nice tomorrow, go back to my parents."

"Really?" Kiera asked, staring at the gravestone before them. "So soon..."

"For you, perhaps;_ I_ have been in Paris for almost nine months now, and it really is time for me to go home." Jacques smiled, pulling out something from his pocket. "_Maman_ sent me a letter a few days back. She did, however, extend an invitation for you to join us."

Kiera blinked in surprise, but then shook her head sombrely.

"I would love to, but...I would rather stay here, if you don't mind. I...I just don't think I can leave..." She turned to see him still smiling softly.

"I assumed as such. Well, farewell then, Kiera. Perhaps we shall meet again someday."

"Indeed. _Au revoir_, Monsieur Jacques." she smiled back sombrely. "I do hope we can meet again as well."

The young man hugged her warmly, then turned and walked away. Kiera turned back toward the graves, sighing mournfully.

"See? I'm all alone now. There's nothing left for me here, nothing left..."

..........................

Kiera didn't return to Marius' until early the next morning. When she passed the parlour, however, she was surprised to hear voices, and crept up closer to the partly open door. It was Monsieur Fauchelevant doing most of the talking; Marius was sitting in a chair, listening as the old man paced restlessly. Kiera listened as the old man talked.

"...I was a prisoner in Toulon for 19 years, Monsieur Pontmercy. For stealing a loaf of bread. Monsieur, I am a convict, a fugitive from the law; I am 24601, Monsieur, I am Jean Valjean."

There was a silence, then Marius whispered.

"Monsieur, I...I believe you. But what should I tell my beloved?"

"Tell her nothing." Valjean said. "I am nothing to Cosette; I didn't know of her existence even, ten years ago."

There was another agonizing silence, and then Marius said quietly.

"Perhaps...it may not be wise, for you to see Cosette again."

"That would be...fair-"

"No it would not!" Kiera burst into the room angrily, and both men turned to gape at her in astonishment.

"Marius, be fair." She continued. "I don't care who this man is, was, or has pretended to be; the fact still remains that he is a good person! And he loves Cosette very much, Marius, you know that!"

"Kiera, where were you last night?" Marius asked her. Exasperated, Kiera snapped back,

"It's none of your concern! And don't go changing the subject; be nice to him! Let him see her."

"I-fine." Marius sighed. "One hour, Monsieur; one hour each night, that's all."

"You are too gracious, Monsieur Pontmercy." Valjean said humbly, his gaze meeting that of Kiera. She sat glaring daggers at Marius as the old man left, leaving just the two of them.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Kiera snapped angrily, to which Marius retorted.

"What about you? You go off..._gallivanting_ around the city all night, and then you come back here to-"

"_'Gallivanting_'?" Kiera said increduosly, then scowled. " If you must know, _Monsieur_, I spent my night in the little Rue Montedour, which I'm sure you are familiar. Sorry for being a bit _upset_ last night."

"I...I'm sorry, Kiera." He sighed. "You're right, I shouldn't be yelling at you. It's not as if you've done anything wrong."

"No...I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." Kiera sighed wearily, slumping onto a couch. "I don't know what to believe in anymore."

"Believe in the future, Kiera." Marius said wisely. "Stop dwelling on a past you can't change, and live for what's to come."

"Oh, what, like you?" she said moodily. "You judge a man based solely on something he did in the far past. Surely by now he has thoroughly washed away his crime, if you could call it that."

"What do you mean?"

"He stole a loaf of bread to feed his family!" Kiera said furiously. "And I would have done the same myself if I had to, Marius! Have you ever thought about it that way; people do whatever is needed to survive."

"That doesn't erase the matter of him being a fugitive from justi-"

"So are we!" Kiera yelled, standing up swiftly. "Marius, if they catch us out there, we are just as dead as he would be! If they recognize us..." she deflated, flopping back onto the couch. "I'm sorry...Marius, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I think I shall just go upstairs now and rest..."

She stood back up, intent on storming up to her room, but Marius grabbed her arm, halting her midstep.

"You're scared."

Kiera froze, then turned and stared him in the eyes. And in those green depths he saw everything; the fear, the sorrow, the loneliness...

"There is nothing for me here." Kiera whispered sadly. "Everything I wanted, everything I lived for, loved for, is gone."

"Don't keep dwelling on the past, Kiera; don't let it consume you." Marius said, repeating his earlier comment. "Change for the future, keep trying, and don't just give up! Do you...." he hesitated, then said quietly. "Do you think Courfeyrac would want you to give up like this, Kiera? Do you think that he would give his life for you, just for you to sit here and waste it?"

"But he isn't here, Marius. All of them are gone now, except for you. And you have a wife now to take care of , Marius." Kiera tugged her arm out of his grasp. "Just leave me be."

And then she flounced up to her room, and this time Marius didn't even try to stop her, because he knew deep in his heart that she was absolutely right.

................................


	21. Epilogue

A/N: Epilogue?

D:

How did it end so soon? Or rather...not...this was actually finished written ages and ages ago, but I'm too busy to type most of the time. DX

There's also a line from a book in here. Props to anyone who knows what it is.

Oh, and the lyrics that inspired the two title parts of this chapter:

Part One:

"Feels like I'm looking at life  
Through a telescope because I'm so high  
And the ground never seemed so far away  
Truth shall be told one day  
I'll be underground one day  
Don't forget me  
Please forgive me  
It's my redemption  
Time for redemption  
I'll see you on the other side"

Part Two: (Note: title is skewed lyric not included. these just inspired it.)

"He was never mine to lose..

Why regret what could not be?....

These are words he'll never say...

Not to me... Not for me..."

Anyway, this is the end! Bye!

I don't own anyone, dead or alive, except Kiera, J-F, etc.

......................................

Epilogue: Part One: June 5th, 1833; On the Other Side.

................................

June fifth dawned ironically bright and sunny. There was tension in the air, along with apprehension; there were even a few patrols, scattered around the city and occasionally stopping suspicious looking persons. But no one stopped the young woman dressed in black that headed across the city streets. In her gloved arms there were around two dozen flowers. It was Kiera, now Nineteen, her long gold hair pinned up under a black hat and veil. Her first stop was at the place that had once been Corinth. No one had bothered to rebuild anything beyond the street; other than that, everything was the same.

Kiera went around slowly, placing a rose on each of the ten spots where each of her friends had lost their lives. Then she sat in silence, ignoring the sounds of the city coming to life around her, a sharp contrast of what it had been just a year ago. When the city slept rather than rise up to save themselves, leaving others to simply die for them. She felt tears nearly brimming in her eyes as she stared at the freshly paved ground. It was a place where three roses were, the only one; it was the place where her love had died, where all her dreams were shattered. But...

"I'm not going to give up." She declared resolutely, staring up at the sky. "Do you hear me? I'm never going to give up!"

"That's good to hear."

Kiera turned sharply to see a slightly older gentleman walking over, followed by a sombre woman and a young man; all three were dressed in black as she was. And there were all too hauntingly familiar.

"_Bonjour_, Kiera." The young man said, his stormy grey eyes so familiar that she felt her eyes almost tearing up again. She choked back her tears and smiled brokenly.

"_Bonjour_, Monsieur Jacques, Monsieur de Courfeyrac, Madame."

Mme. de Courfeyrac smiled back with the same sense of sadness.

"How nice to see you again, my dear. Alas, that it should be on such...such a sad occasion."

"Indeed..." Kiera mumbled, her gaze lighting on the roses she had placed on the ground. there were still about eleven left, which she had left by the all for the next morning, when her vigil continued.

"Listen, Mademoiselle.." M. de Courfeyrac fidgeted uncomfortably, then sighed. "I am sorry for how I treated both you and my son before. I...I know now that he was right. I should have let him make his own decisions."

"He didn't hate you." Kiera whispered. "He never hated you. He never really hated anyone." she smiled faintly. Monsieur de Courfeyrac forced a smile back, then stared around them.

"So, this is where it happened?"

Kiera nodded slowly, eyes unfocused as she stared down the street. Courfeyrac's father blinked rapidly.

"Well...I never really guessed that Nicolas would come to such a place, do such a thing...He was always a more cowardly child, always crying, never fought much with either of his brothers."

"He felt very strongly about the cause." Jacques-François said quietly. "He had always told me about it. He said he wanted to make the world a better place, for everyone."

"I always wondered how two of our children turned out so republican, coming from our history of strict Royalists." Corrine de Courfeyrac mused. Kiera sighed.

"Coming here to the city tends to do that to people. Being students, they tend to live closer to the _abais__é__e_ than most people generally do. That is why there are so many workingmen, so many students among the groups. Many even become friends with the peasants of the city." she added, remembering Feuilly. M. de Courfeyrac stared at the ground solemnly.

"I feel so ridiculous now, letting myself get so angry with him. I-maybe he never would have left home; maybe we could have been closer, maybe he would never have done this."

"He would have, though" Jacques interjected. "Because Gautier died, and because of the way that he died, Nicolas was never quite the same. He was already talking to his friends, trying to find out if there was anything he could do to help the poor people of the streets."

"He did indeed." Kiera said as they began walking down the street. "Especially because he had seen what had happened to his brother, he began pitying the poor, became intent on helping them."

"'Seen'?" Corrine echoed. "What do you mean, he had 'seen' it? He always told me that he had been left back at the apartment."

"He lied." Kiera said flatly. "He was..reluctant, to admit it. He was scared, and he was a bit ashamed of what had happened. That's why he wanted to do something; he felt like he had to repent, that he was guilty."

"That's foolish." M. de Courfeyrac muttered, and Kiera sighed sadly.

"It was, I suppose. But it's too late now. It's always been too late."

...........................

An hour later, Kiera and Jacques-François sat alone outside a café. Even though neither really wanted to talk about it, the conversation kept turning to the event of the year before.

"...and, you know, there is one thing that has always bothered me." Jacques said at one point. "after we first heard of my dear brother's death, I asked one of my old friends in the Guard if they normally sent the letters, normally let the parent's have the body, do a funeral. And he told me that they absolutely did not, that 'their kin' were never treated so well." He stared somewhat meaningfully at an uncomfortable Kiera before continuing. "He said that there had been some sort of pieces of paper, stuck into the pockets of those certain people, along with instructions on how to remove some of the money from some account in a bank, to pay to inform their families and bury them properly."

"Hmm..." Kiera said noncommittally, and Jacques continued.

"Kiera, you knew exactly where each of them had been killed, even those who according to your account died after you were shot." He added accusingly. Finally, Kiera sighed, then admitted quietly.

"Fine, it was me, okay? I..I walked around and placed all of those notes in their pockets that time I woke up, leaning on a gun, being why I almost died. Satisfied?"

"Then why not say anything?" Jacques asked. "Why not tell anyone? Why lie?"

"My entire life has been a god damned lie." Kiera snapped. : Everything is built on lies; our whole existence is structured on lies, and on secrets."

...................

Part Two: June 6th, 1833: Just a Dream, After All....

....................

When Kiera first opened her eyes on June sixth, she was alone again. Some things never changed.

"So it Goes. She muttered, brushing the dirt off her dress from sleeping in the cemetery, as she had, under a tree. Sighing, she glanced at the graves not too far from her spot.

"Well, this is it, I guess; one whole year." She laughed bitterly. "Doesn't seem like that long, though I guess I was out of it for a few months. You know, I sort of expect to wake up one morning to find that this is all just a dream, that you will be right beside me, and we can go on with our lives as we had been. Silly, I know." She sighed mournfully. "I'll never see any of you again. I'll never hear Bossuet laugh again; never hear Joly bemoaning his ailments to the world; never see Feuilly paint another fan; never hear Bahorel's rants; never hear Jehan read one of his poems again; never hear Combeferre and Enjolras, preaching freedom...never again be held in the safety of your arms, Courfeyrac. Never again." She sighed. "That's why I'm leaving. I'm going to stop running away in vain from things that I cannot change. So...farewell, _Mes Amis_."

As she turned to leave, she looked up at the sky, then whispered under her breath.

"Until we meet again."

..........................

"When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have  
All of me

You used to captivate me  
By your resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
Your face it haunts  
My once pleasant dreams  
Your voice it chased away  
All the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase"

-My Immortal, Evanescence

"Every night in my dreams  
I see you, I feel you  
That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance  
And spaces between us  
You have come to show you go on

Near, far, wherever you are  
I believe that the heart does go on  
Once more you open the door  
And you're here in my heart  
And my heart will go on and on

Love can touch us one time  
And last for a lifetime  
And never let go till we're gone

Love was when I loved you  
One true time I hold to  
In my life we'll always go on"

-My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion (covered by Michael Ball)

"Oh my friends, my friends forgive me  
That I live and you are gone.  
There's a grief that can't be spoken.  
There's a pain goes on and on.

Phantom faces at the window.  
Phantom shadows on the floor.  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
Where my friends will meet no more.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me  
What your sacrifice was for  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
Where my friends will sing no more."

-Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, LM

..........................

THE END

....................


End file.
